The Herald and The Lion
by out.of.sea.into.woods
Summary: The story of Evelyn Trevelyan and her commander and husband, Cullen Rutherford, as they try and adjust to the world that no longer needs them. Post-Trespasser.
1. A Night Conversation

**I don't own Dragon Age.**

Evelyn Trevelyan struggled to unbutton her gown with one arm. The Orlesian dress seemed entirely made up of knots and buckles and buttons and bows. Cullen's mabari, still without a name, looked up at her, but offered no help and retired to a pillow in the corner.

The Inquisition had been in Val Royeaux for the past weeks, working out the logistics of their conversion to the Divine's honor guard. Tonight was the first night that she and Cullen would stay in their official appointments, instead of two cots in the work rooms of the Grand Chantry. Despite both of their demands, Josephine saw the Inquisitor and her Commander placed in one of the finest neighborhoods of the capital city before she left for her homeland. The floor was all white marble with black veins dancing across it. The furniture was heavy mahogany and muted velvet. No doubt in the weeks to come, every piece would quietly find its way to someone else, while Evelyn procured simpler, less ostentatious fixings for the home.

 _Home_. It was hard not to think of Skyhold when she thought of that word. There was talks to gift the castle and its lands to Evelyn, create a House Trevelyan at Skyhold from her and Cullen. Cassandra promised to see it through, but no doubt Orlais and Ferelden would be threatened if she held an actual political title. Still, it would've been kind if she had been allowed to return to her castle in the mountains. No matter. A week would pass before she and Cullen would be on the move again- off to visit his brother and sister and nieces and nephews in the South Reach. It would only be the two of them, just-

"Maker's balls!" She cursed, her fingers sore and her dress no more off than it started. "Cullen, get me a knife!"

"I believe there's a simpler solution." His voice was much closer than she expected- already inside the room. He had been watching her for some time, and she trembled when his hands found her waist and began to deftly work at the buttons that followed her spine. In moments, her dress was on the floor and she stood in her nightgown, thin as spiderwebs.

"Thank you." She turned and kiss his lips. He was dressed in a nightshirt and simple black pants, his hair mussed and flat after a long day. She liked the feeling of his rough cheek against hers and his rough hands along her waist. She pulled the pins from her hair and laid them on their bedside table. The bed was one extravagance she might have to indulge in. She could lose Cullen in it, in its warmth and downy softness. Josephine could go over the top, but she knew how to pick a bed.

"If I ever have to sign another paper," Cullen said as he sat on the edge of the bed. "It will be too soon." He ran a hand through his hair. "I feel like I'm a little boy again, with Chantry sisters nagging me around every corner."

"Imagine how Cassandra feels." Cullen choked on a laugh at the thought. Evelyn seriously considered taking the Divine out to tear down buildings or anything that allowed her hands to destroy. She had never seen a woman of faith, clothed in fine silk and gold, look so liable to punch through marble. But Cassandra had changed in the past two years- she had grown into the Sunburst Throne. And soon, she would leave to rebuild the Seekers, leaving the Chantry under the hand of Grand Cleric Godiva (a old, serious woman from Nevarra who Cassandra knew as a little girl). The time working with her hands would do Cassandra some good.

"We must find new appointments."Cullen looked around at their finery, voicing her own private thoughts. "I feel like I'm in the Winter Palace and- it puts me on edge. I would not find this comfortable."

Evelyn opened her mouth to agree, but thought of a better response and smiled coyly, running a hand through her auburn hair, letting it fall past her shoulders. "And what _would_ make you comfortable, Commander?"

"Well, some simple furniture for one, and none of these silk hangings, it's almost obscene. A statue of Andraste, perhaps. That corner would be…" Cullen looked at Evelyn expectantly and saw the light in his wife's eyes and the welcoming curve of her body, visible through the white nightgown. "Oh. _Oh_!"

"Maker, Cullen, I-" But his lips met hers with a smile and a kiss and she pulled him closer to her. Their bodies pressed tight as Cullen laid himself over her. They were both scarred and hardened, in different ways, but together, the landscape of every battle and every scar made something beautiful. Evelyn felt supple and soft under Cullen's fingers. She smiled, but pulled back after their legs brushed against each other.

"Cullen?"

"Yes?" He said eagerly.

"You're wearing boots to bed, my love." She told him. "Just… wanted to point that out."

"What? I'm-" He looked down and blushed furiously. "Maker's breath, no, I'm so sorry, forgive me, I'm-" He lept out of bed and struggled pulling off his leather boots. Evelyn laughed and pulled herself over to the other side of the bed. After tossing both boots across the room, Cullen landed with a flop on the bed.

"Yes, sorry bout that, my fault." He smiled nervously at her. Delicately she cupped his face in her hand. Cullen let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes as she ran her thumb across the scar of his lips.

"It comes to mind that we haven't shared a bed since the Exalted Council." Evelyn mused, still entranced by her husband's face.

"Yes, well-" Cullen pulled his head from her reach, much to her disappointment. "We've been surrounded by others for every second since we started to serve Cassandra. To be honest, I've been so exhausted that I haven't even thought about it."

"Oh?" Evelyn raised an eyebrow. "Well, if you haven't thought of it, no need to do anything now. Goodnight." She turned on her side with a smile. Cullen laughed and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into the curve of his own body. She felt his breath on her neck and heard him whisper, "I have thought of this many times. More times than I'd care to admit." She smiled, but something in her made her tense, and he pulled back for a moment.

"What's wrong, my love?"

"Do you- Will… Will your family accept me?" She asked slowly.

"Of course! Why wouldn't they?"

 _Where do I begin_ … She sat up and rested against the headboard. Cullen shifted and laid his head in her lap. "I am a mage." She began. "And a lady- I might be from the Free Marches, but it is still nobility. And Inquisitor to boot. Might be intimidating."

"My family will not care. Your title and rank are no less frightening to them than mine. Branson will probably idealize you, Rosalie will be jealous, but Mia will adore you, and that's all that matters. If Mia is on your side, the others will follow suit."

"Jealous? Why?"

"You've seen the world. You are the Inquisitor." Cullen looked up at her. "You are also beautiful. Rosalie will resent you."

"Cullen!" She admonished him. "You don't think your sister is beautiful?"

"No, it's not that!" He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I haven't seen her since she was- 12, 14 maybe. Who am I to know? But she was pretty when she was younger. But you- you are beautiful." This made her smile, of course, and Cullen relaxed. "As for you being a mage… I admit, that might pose a special challenge. I don't think any of them would come outright and say anything, but there might be some tension. But you'll charm them over, I'm sure of it. Mother might be harder than most, but-"

" _Mother_?" She pushed Cullen's head from her lap. "Cullen Rutherford, you are _not_ saying that all this time, your mother was alive and you didn't tell me!" She stood by the side of the bed, furious.

"It's not- I mean, I didn't- yes?" He looked at her pathetically. There was no way out of this one; he would simply have to wait until she decided not to be furious.

"Your _mother_? I've been with your for over two years, I've killed demons with you, you've watched me enter the Fade, battle Archdemons and dragons and red templars, I'm _married_ to you for Andraste's sake, and yet you decided to wait till now to discuss your mother's existence! I thought I would at least get a hint that she was still alive! Maker's breath, Cullen, what- How- _Ugh_!" She paced a bit, running a hand through her hair. Cullen sat on the bed with a slightly disappointed look on his face. After a few moments, she turned her back to him, her hand on her hips.

"May I speak?" He asked tentatively.

"Yes." A single syllable reply.

He took a deep breath. "My mother is quite old. Rosalie's birth took a toll on her body, and my father's death, on her mind. Mia tells me she is not quite herself- she forgets people, places. She mistakes Mia for her sister who died when she by Ferelden rebels in the last age." Cullen rubbed the bridge of his nose. Evelyn turned around slowly, hearing the regret in his voice. "I- I haven't seen her in many years. I visited once after I finished my training. At first, she wept with joy and pride. That was the good part. Then, she called me Gregory, my father's name. Then she became awfully confused, thinking it was my brother's wedding day and she needed to cook, or something of the like. Then- then she became angry. Cursing, and throwing things…"

"Oh, Cullen." Evelyn crawled back onto bed, her frustration alleviated. She laid her hand on her husband's shoulder.

"It was terrifying. I was only a young man- a boy who thought he was a man, really. I was selfish. I ran. I've only written since. Mia tells me she asks for me sometimes. But I have no doubt she also curses my name too." Cullen let out a deep sigh. "She is one of my many regrets. I have failed in my duty as many things, but I have failed as a son most of all."

"Cullen, don't say that." She pulled him close to her body, his face resting on her bosom. She could feel his shamed, hot face against her skin, and she almost wept. "Cullen, you have done feats that would make any mother proud. But this illness of your mother's, this sickness of the mind… There is nothing you could've done. Even if you had remained by her side, become a farmer- she would've still lashed out at you, eventually."

"How do you know?" He asked, his voice husky and muffled.

"There were elderly enchanters in the Ostwick circle." She began, her own cruel memories coming up. "Sweet men and women who had spent years in the Circle. But, eventually, their age made them volatile. They forgot simple things- where they were, what spells to cast, who was around them. Then, they began to mistake people for old friends, family. One man, Bryce- the best healing mage I'd ever met- he thought I was his childhood sweetheart. He grabbed my hand and asked me to meet him in the meadow. He called me Lydia. His eyes- they were a thousand miles away."

She took a breath, wreathing her fingers in Cullen's hair. "The lucky ones were made Tranquil, able to spend the rest of their days in peace. Bryce- he was possessed and- the Templars dealt with him." They shared a heavy silence, each clinging to the other.

"I'm sorry." He said.

"I am too." She looked down and brought his face up to hers. "Your mother loves you- even if her mind is confused, or gone. She loves you. As I do." Evelyn kissed him gently.

"I thought it would be easier." He murmured. "If I didn't tell you, I didn't have to face it. She wasn't real. I'm sorry."

"You're forgiven, my love." She brushed his cheek and smiled at him gently. He could be so dense, this man of hers, but how could she hold his own sweetness against him? How could she hold his protection of himself, of her, against this man she loved?

"I cannot promise she will be kind to you." He told her. "She was raised in a world where the hate of mages was praised. She might hate you."

"As long as you don't." And that brought a smile from him, and then a kiss, and then more and more and more.

Later, they were laying on the huge expanse of the bed together, tangled up among the silken sheets. Suddenly, the mabari lept onto the bed, bouncing them both up to a terrifying height.

"What the-" Cullen sat up and glared at the hound, who had curled up in a huge mound at their feet. "No! _Down_." He commanded sternly. The dog promptly ignored him.

"Let him be." Evelyn urged him, pulling her husband back down to her. "There's more than enough room."

"All the same, I'd rather have just the two of us." But he laid back down anyways, wrapping his arm around her, pulling her onto his broad chest.

"Have you thought of a name?" She asked.

"Actually, yes." He smiled. "I thought 'Alistair' would be good. For the king, you know."

"Yes, I'm aware of the King's name." She said sarcastically. "I think it is a fine name. Al the mabari."

" _Alistair_." Cullen corrected. "You can't name a warhound ' _Al_ '.

"Please. You can't name a sweetheart like him ' _Alistair_ '." She stroked the dog's back with her foot. "He's Al, plain and simple." As if in agreement, Al raised his head and sniffed at the couple.

"Ugh," Cullen rubbed his eyes. "I'm not going to win at this one, am I?"

"Not in the slightest, love. Now, go to sleep."


	2. The Musings of a Lion

**This is kinda just me, badly musing about how Cullen must've thought about Evelyn. So, here you go. It's kinda shitty. But yeah.**

 **I don't own Dragon Age.**

He waited.

That seemed like a theme for him. He waited. He watched from the battlements, from the trail, from the castle. He commanded, sent orders and soldiers, he planned. He waited.

He waited for her.

Surely, this was cowardice. To send this slip of a woman into the greatest battlefield Thedas has ever known, and do nothing. To never stand by her side. To only watch as she fought forces of evil too great for him to even understand. But Andraste was much the same- maybe that is why she had chosen Trevelyan as her herald. Cullen had to admit, sometimes, in his prayers, when he pictured the face of Andraste shrouded in flame, he saw Evelyn- her green eyes blazing and her auburn hair writhing in the fire. And his faith withered into terror for this woman who he loved.

This mage who he waited for and prayed for every moment.

If she had come into his life ten years ago, if he had known her in Kirkwall. How cruel, how monstrous he would have treated her. The very idea made him sick, made him want to punish himself for the possibility of causing her pain. And yet, could he let it all go? Could he trust a mage to lead the most powerful force in Thedas against evil? Could he hold a confidence with someone who he had been taught since birth was evil? Could he work with a mage, talk to one, be friends for one? Could he lust for a mage? Love one?

Haven was when he realized it. She had just been a flirtation before. The Herald, an enigma. A quiet mage who showed a quick wit and a deep heart. She was kind to him, asking him questions about anything and everything, yet somewhere not seeming nosy. Gentle, and soft spoken. He had mistaken that for shyness, or even stupidity. He thought that a life in the nobility to the Circle had left her sheltered and dim. But she was just listening, listening and planning her retorts with precision.

But when the Archdemon came, and Corypheus stood before Haven as it burned, and he led the villagers through the mountain pass, Cullen had felt a pit in his stomach as he realized that every step took him further and further from her. He had left her. Abandoned her. Deserted her before a would-be god to sacrifice her life to save her people. To save him. When they made camp in the freezing mountain pass, he had to stand in the shadows while his soldiers set up the tents, for fear they would see the tears freeze on his cheeks. How could he let her, this woman, this _girl_ , stand alone? When they found her in the snow, stumbling and mumbling nonsense, half frozen, he nearly wept with joy. It was hard to tear his arms from her when the healers came for her, but he forced himself to.

He waited for her to wake.

Skyhold had been realer, safer. In the ancient castle, he felt secure enough to open up to the beautiful woman who approached him. It was almost an actual courtship- flirtatious words and soft glances. Playing chess in the garden. It was fun, exhilarating. He had never felt this way about anyone before, not truly. And then, when he kissed her on the battlements, he could never describe the feeling of her unprepared lips against his. She tasted like snow and strawberries- the snow from the glacier water of Skyhold, the strawberries were her guilty pleasure. And she was his. Being _had_ and _having_ someone were not feeling he was used to. But the joy was uncomparable.

Adamant had been hard- incredible so. The siege cost so many lives, he saw his soldiers fall around him. He fought by then, swinging his greatsword as hard as he could, striking down any demon that was unfortunate enough to stand before him. All to cut a path to her. She was a capable warrior- one of the most powerful mages he had ever seen. Something in the way she casted her spells, something spoke of an incredible grace that she didn't fully know about. He shouldn't worry for her like he did. He had to protect an entire army, not just one woman. But when the Archdemon came, it shamed him when he thought of how he had run to her. Through the fighting, past every skirmish. He had tried to reach her. But the Fade claimed her all the same.

That had been the worst- the waiting. Always waiting. Hours. Demons fighting all around them, he had to protect his soldiers, had to protect his men, but all the while, his thoughts were on a mage lost in the Fade. He should've been fighting alongside his men, that would've been honorable. But all it was was waiting. Even when she saved herself and the others, even when she pardoned the Grey Wardens. Waiting for her command. At the Winter Palace- waiting for her signal, for her to flash her green eyes filled with fear as she was surrounded by conniving and murderous nobles. Waiting for her before the Temple of Mythal.

Waiting as she went, alone, to face Corypheus.

He had almost lost it then. They had shared so much together, so much history. The flirtations, the looks, the soft words in his office, the moments on the battlements. They had shared a bed, and she had shared his nightmares. She had held his hands as he pushed the lyrium aside. But they could not share this fight. He could not stand beside her when she faced the would-be god. He was the man who stood behind a castle wall and watched his only love battle for the world.

And then two years of bliss. There was still works to be done, Venatori to be wiped out, Red Templars to be destroyed. There was always work to be done, always things and people to finish. But none of it life threatening. All of it was simply work. And they could be together. They grew to sharing a bed. She liked to fold his clothes. He learned to braid her hair when she was asleep. It was simple. It was easy.

And when the Exalted Council came, and when he was a fool to propose to her with a bloody _dog_ , it was as if a dream had descended upon him. His wife, his wife, his _wife_. Forget the political tensions, it was simply _His Wife_. His wife. But then the betrayals, the plots. The Qunari and the Dread Wolf.

The Dread Wolf.

When all was said and done, one of the last things he would remember- Solas, appearing from the Eluvian. Inquisition soldiers, gripping their weapons, unwilling to act without his command. Cullen standing there, his eyes burning into the traitorous elf. But in his arms, Evelyn was laid limp and unmoving. Solas walked towards him- slowly, with no malice. The Dread Wolf and the Lion. Cullen looked down at her, and saw her arm. Gone. Wrapped in a bandage, no blood.

"She will live." Solas had said. "The Anchor is removed. Find happiness with her, my friend." And he laid Evelyn in Cullen's arm like a newborn babe. Slowly, Solas left through the Eluvian, which shattered behind him.

He had waited for her.

And now, with the Inquisition had changed, with a new job waiting for them, with their whole lives waiting for them.

He would wait for her as long as she would let him.


	3. A Letter Between Sisters

_**Delivered courtesy of one, overtaxed Inquisition scout.**_

 _Dear Mia Rutherford (formerly?) of South Reach,_

 _My name is Evelyn Trevelyan. I wish I could say this in an unpretentious way, but I know you know who I am. And, as I'm sure Cullen will not inform you, I have taken it upon myself to take up the correspondence between you two. I also think now is a good time to inform you that I am married to you brother, as of two days ago._

 _You are as shocked as I am, and I hope you won't hold it against Cullen too much for not telling you. He proposed accidentally- as only Cullen could. Truly, I wish it could've been held in your home- which would surely be more home to me than Ostwick. Perhaps a celebration can be held when we visit._

 _Oh, and we also intend to visit. We hope this is acceptable._

 _I intend to write more at a later date, but the Inquisition is in a flurry, transitioning to the Chantry. Until then._

 _Yours Very Truly,_

 _Lady Evelyn Trevelyan of Skyhold, recently of Val Royeaux_

 _ **Delivered courtesy of the same scout, now a bit more rotund from several home cooked meals.**_

 _Dear_ _Lady Trevelyan_ _Inquisitor_ _Evelyn of Skyhold, recently of Val Royeaux_

 _I must admit, I had to take a few days before I wrote this letter. I chopped a lot of wood, killed a quarter of our chickens, and scrubbed my daughter's dresses threadbare. Terrin (my husband) has been walking on eggshells, but I have moved past it. Cullen is my brother whom I adore, but when I see him, I will give him a railing like I've used to do when he was a child._

 _I am already preparing the house for you two to visit, which must happen as soon as this nonsense in Orlais is finished. And you will stay for as long as you can. Or as long as I can keep you._

 _I would write a letter for Cullen, but I assume it's a lost cause, so just tell him that I love him and he will need to fear me for a few weeks when you first come. But I must ask you- keep him safe. My brother may attempt to act as though being a templar and a warrior and now a commander has made him personally responsible to carry the weight of the world, but he is only a man. When he was a babe, our cow, Daisy, caught cow madness and our father had to kill her. And little Cullen, sweet child as he was, wept for days because he didn't want Daisy to be in pain._

 _I know my brother has grown into a man that I would hardly recognize today. He has been hardened by the world, worn down by his sufferings. But I can't help but think- I can't help but hope that that boy still lives inside him. Somewhere._

 _Forgive me. I am an older woman than I would like to be, and that has made me sentimental. I hardly know you, yet from the stories and Cullen's few letters (have I mentioned that my brother doesn't write enough), I feel as though you are the sister I always needed (don't tell Rosalie)._

 _Until next time. Your sister,_

 _Mia Hawtrey (for future reference)_


	4. Eldham

**I don't own Dragon Age** _ **.**_

The horses raced across the dirt road, kicking up stones and dust in their wake. Cullen clutched the reins tighter as they ran down the forested hill. They had been riding off the Imperial Highway for a few days now. Sometime today, they were due to reach Eldham, the village his family lived in. Alistair (though the name _Al_ had been the only named used by everyone but Cullen) ran by his side, keeping excellent pace. Behind him, three Inquisition scouts rode with them- and behind them, Evelyn took her place. She had trouble riding now, with one arm, but scolded him when he suggested they ride on the same mount. A matter of pride, he supposed.

The scouts had been Leliana's idea. With the results of the Exalted Council and Solas' people lurking in every shadow, it seemed wise not to allow the Inquisitor and the Commander ride off into Ferelden alone. The scouts would return to Val Royeaux once they saw the couple safely in Eldham. Cullen had chafed under the order to begin with, but now he was thankful. Evelyn was struggling to adjust to living with one arm. They had come across some Venatori agents on the Imperial Highway, and the last one had already fallen by the time Evelyn had gotten her staff from her back and casted her first spell. Her frustration was palpable, almost as much as her nervousness. This was the woman who had gone into the Winter Palace- the same fear, the same anxiety. Cullen did his best to comfort her, but he was scared too. He hadn't been home- hadn't even _had_ a home- since before Kirkwall. He didn't know what to expect.

The woods began to thin and houses appeared along the road. A village. Eldham.

"Woah!" Cullen slowed his stallion, the rest of the party followed suit. They trotted into the village as civilized as they could. Eldham was not a large village, perhaps having only 75 inhabitants. And every single one seemed to be standing alongside the road today, to see the dread Inquisitor arrive in the humble town. Cullen slowed and allowed Evelyn to come up to his side. He searched her face for fear, but it was blank. Her mask of professionalism. An odd silence filled the air, the kind of horses' breath, tight throats, and faint birdsong. Alistair let out a faint whine, but stayed by his master's side.

"Excuse me," He asked a man with two small children at his side. "Can you tell me where Mia Hawtrey lives?"

The man pointed a knobby finger down the road. "The second to last house on the left. Can't miss it."

"Thank you, sir." Cullen kicked his horse forward. Evelyn waited, rummaged in her pockets, and tossed a single silver coin to the man. He grabbed it greedily, eyed it, and nodded to her. As they walked through the solemn procession, every villager made eye contact with the shiny newcomers. Cullen suddenly felt foolish for dressing his armour. As the crowd finally thinned out, a child's voice rang out behind them- "Hail the Inquisitor!"

Evelyn turned back, looking for the voice. The other children took up the call. Their parents followed suit. Soon, the entire town called after the Inquisitor. Evelyn's cheeks blushed a heavy red. She moved to turn away, but thought better of it and raised a fist in solidarity to the villagers. Applause and shouts roared and the crowd began to disperse. They had had their fun. Now back to work.

His family's new home was respectable. Mia's husband, Terrin, was a smith and maintained a small shop. But Branson, Cullen's younger brother, was an innkeeper. He and his wife, Helena, kept up the only inn in the village. They had 30 rooms or so, not counting the rooms used by the whole family. Well, the whole family except for Mother.

Outside the inn stood Branson and Helena. Branson took after their mother's family, as did Cullen- blonde hair, brown eyes, sturdy build, handsome faces. Branson had taken on some flab after his marriage, but his eyes were still bright with a smile. Helena had raven hair and brown skin, her body soft from childbirth. Hiding in her skirts was a small boy- Cullen's nephew, Lief.

The party stopped in front of the inn and Cullen dismounted easily. He helped Evelyn down from her steed gently. Branson approached them. "Take the horses to the stable out back." He told the scouts, his voice deeper than Cullen remembered. "Supper will be served soon." As the scouts and mounts trotted off, Branson embraced Cullen deeply. It was strange, hugging a man who was also his brother but was so changed. Cullen was still taller, leaner, more muscular. But his brother smelled of hearth and home and Cullen hugged him deeply.

"Brother." Branson said, pulled back. "It's been too long."

"Yes." Cullen replied awkwardly. "Far too long." Alistair suddenly barked enthusiastically and bounced to Cullen's side. Branson stumbled back and gwuaffed.

"Maker's breath, Cully, a _marbari_?" Branson let out a booming laugh and held out a tentative hand for Alistair to sniff.

"Yes." Cullen said, wincing as Evelyn covered a smile. He hoped she would be too smart to indulge in his childhood nickname, but he also knew she would remember. _Cully_. "I got him in Val Royeaux. You don't mind?"

"Ah, let the ole bastard stay, he seems nice enough." Branson smiled broadly. "He can stay in the stable, if that's fine." Cullen nodded and signaled for the dog to follow the scouts. Amazingly, Al ran off immediately for them. _**Now**_ _he listens to me..._

"But I think you're the one I should be marveling at." Branson turned to Evelyn, who suddenly tensed. Cullen placed a hand on her back, trying to soothe her.

"Branson, my wife- Evelyn Trevelyan."

"I've heard much about you, my lady." Branson took her extended hand. "Some from Mia, some from village gossip. But you're even prettier than the rumors say."

Evelyn blushed and said in a quiet voice, "Then I must correct the rumors as quick as I can." Branson smiled brightly and Cullen let out a sigh of relief.

"My wife, Helena." Branson gestured for her and she approached, slowly. She nodded, but didn't say a word. "And our lad, Lief." The child couldn't be more than five or four, and had his father's blonde hair and his mother's green eyes. He looked up his uncle and aunt with wide, frightened eyes.

Before anything else could be said, Evelyn knelt down to his level and said sweetly, "Hello, Master Lief. I'm your Auntie Evelyn." She held out her hand for him to shake. Hesitantly, he wrapped his tiny hand around one of her fingers and shook it gently. The whole party smiled. Evelyn had won them over, for now at least.

"Arm." Lief said suddenly, in the clear light tones of a child, pointing at Evelyn's amputated limb. Every adult flinched. Helena scooped up the boy immediately and rushed back inside.

"Forgive me," Branson stumbled out. "He's just a boy."

"There's nothing to forgive." Evelyn replied. "Like you said, he's just a boy."

"Well- ahem, let me take you inside." Branson led his brother and his wife into the inn. "I'll let the scouts take your bags to your room. Mia is inside, waiting for you."

"Andraste, watch over us." Cullen said a quick prayer. Branson laughed and opened the door. The parlor was much like a tavern- a big space with a roaring fire, several tables and chairs, and a staircase that led to the rooms. A few windows let sunlight pool into the dark room. By the fire, a big burly man with a red beard sat, drinking ale. With him was a little girl with brown hair, reading, and a woman in her mid-thirties with brown hair streaked with silver and a belly swollen with child, doing needle point. The woman looked up and her blue eyes pierced through the dark. Mia. Even in her age, she was beautiful. She took after Father- the only of of the Rutherfords to do so.

"Mia, I-" Cullen started, but Mia rose and he fell silent. She took in her brother and the Inquisitor slowly, like a dragon decided who to eat first.

Then, she opened up her arms and said, "Sister!" Evelyn embraced Mia with the warmth of women who've known each other for lifetimes. Cullen stared at them, openly confused. "Was the journey pleasant?"

"As pleasant as can be." Evelyn allowed. Mia picked a twig from Evelyn's hair and Cullen felt a rush of warmth for his sister. Whether the friendship they already shared was true or not, he appreciated his sister's openness to his bride. "I assume this is Terrin?" Evelyn gestured to the huge man by the fire.

"Aye." Mia nodded. Terrin stood and bowed awkwardly to Evelyn and Cullen.

"Please, there's no need-"

"Don't worry, ma'am." Terrin said. "My mum raised me right. I know how to behave in front of a lady. Especially a pretty one." He smiled and showed a mouth of crooked teeth.

"Oh, hush up and go beat a sword or something." Mia snarked at him. Terrin chuckled and squeezed past the newcomers to his shop. He clapped Cullen on the shoulder and nodded to him, and left without a word.

"And _this_ … must be Beatrix." Evelyn smiled at the girl reading the book. As soon as they had walked through the door, the girl's eyes were locked on the strangers.

"It is." Mia smiled. "Come on, Bee. Say hello to your aunt and uncle." Mia held a hand out to her daughter. Quick as a rabbit, Beatrix dropped her book and ran upstairs without a word. "Beatrix! _Beatrix Hawtrey!_ That girl- I'm so sorry. She's a shy one." Mia flushed with embarrassment.

"It's fine." Evelyn pardoned her. "I'm sure it's overwhelming- all these new people." Of course, the girl lived in an inn, where new people came and went all the time. But Evelyn was trying to put Mia at ease and it worked. Then, Mia turned her gaze to her brother.

"Mia." Cullen smiled and held out his arms to her. She looked him up and down, this Templar standing in her house, and stepped towards him.

Like a flash of lightning, Cullen felt a slap on his head, then a punch in his shoulder. " _Ow_!" He cried out, trying to shield himself from his sister's blow, to no avail.

"Don't ' _ow_ ' me, you spineless nug of a man!" Mia cursed him and beat him ferociously. "We got months, _years_ without letters, without so much of a whisper! And then, when peace finally settles and it seems like you could come home to us, you get _married_ without even telling us?!" Cullen had gone through the horrors of Templar training, but he had never felt such fear as he did now, under the wrath of his sister. He heard laughter and realized that Branson and Evelyn were doing nothing to defend him. Self-preservation took control and he ran from the house, intending to hide out in the stable.

Mia chased him out the door, skirts in her fists. "You can only run for so long, Cullen Rutherford!" She planted herself in the doorway, scowling at him. "And I'll be waiting for you when you get back!"

 **Hope you guys are enjoying this. Rosalie will come in next chapter, maybe. Mia is giving me Mrs. Weasley vibes, which I'm loving. A plot is starting to form in my mind, so that's cool. Give me your guys' thoughts/headcanons and I'll probably put them to use.**


	5. Through the Wall

**I don't own Dragon Age**

Evelyn stood on the threshold of their room for the next season. It was simple and cozy- a large bed, a dresser, a nightstand, and a washbasin. The walls were bare and wooden and smelled of smoke and apples.

"I'm sorry we can't offer you more." Mia fretted, smoothing out the bedspread. "I'm sure your others rooms are much more extravagant."

"Uncomfortably so." She smiled. "This is wonderful, Mia. Thank you."

"Yes, well-" Mia straightened up, proud of herself. "I'll fetch you for supper later. Our room is just to your left. Branson and Helena are across the hall with Lief. And Bee is to your right. Speaking of which…" Mia went to the door. "Settle in, my dear. I'll be by later." And with that, Evelyn was alone.

She let out a sigh of relief and collapsed on the bed. The blanket was scratchy and soft. Evelyn closed her eyes and found comfort in the soft oranges of her eyelids. Behind the wall, she heard Mia open Beatrix's door.

"Beatrix Hawtrey." She said, her voice stern. "I'm waiting for an explanation, young lady." Beatrix mumbled something Evelyn couldn't hear. Despite herself, Evelyn curled up against the wall, straining to make out the conversation.

"Evelyn and Cullen are your family. You _will_ treat them with respect, you hear me?"

"The village children say she went into the Fade." Beatrix's voice was clear and piercing. "They saw they fought demons and gods. They say she met Andraste."

"I don't care what the village children say. She's your aunt." Mia was firm.

"They saw she's a mage." On that note, there was silence. Evelyn tensed, waiting for Mia to say something. But no words were spoken.

"Beatrix…"

"Auntie Helena says mages are the spawn of evil." Beatrix went on, her voice slurring together with fear. "She says that mages are vessels for demons. She says that the only good mage is dead or Tranquil. She says that-"

"I _know_ what Helena says." Mia retorted. Evelyn heard her sigh and the squeak of the bed as she sat down. Evelyn bit her lip. She would've never guessed that Helena had hated mages. She had been silent, true, but Evelyn took that as shyness, not hatred. Lost in thought, Evelyn suddenly remembered Mia was talking. "... But times have changed. Your aunt and uncle, and even Papa and me… We were born in a different time. We knew… So little. Now- now we know the mages are people. Just like you and me."

"But what about Grandma? She says-"

" _Grandma_ is an old woman whose mind has left her." Mia sighed again. "Listen, my sweet Bee… Papa's craft is dangerous, right? With the fires and the steel and the iron, anyone could get hurt easily, right?" A pause. "Right. So, Papa had to learn very carefully about how to stay safe. How to protect his hands and his body from the flames and the metal. How to hammer out the right shapes. And how to protect his shop and the inn from the oven. He could still get hurt, but he's a master at the trade, right?"

"Right." Beatrix's voice was small.

"Well, magic is like Papa's trade. Useful, but dangerous. You know what the Chant of Light says?"

"Magic will not rule over man?"

"Yes, my sweet. Well, Evelyn is like Papa. She's a master of the craft. She knows how to protect herself, and use the magic to help people. And she can protect all of us as well." A pause. Evelyn held her breath. "She's family now, and I know she will grow to care deeply for all of us. Trust me, sweet Bee, she would never harm us."

There was only silence now, but Evelyn was lost in thought. She had trained all her life to control her magic, and these last years had made her a magic of the craft in the way no mage had been before. Her reputation had become legend throughout Thedas. But still- she was not invulnerable. The Anchor had proven that. What if Mia was wrong? What is she lost control? What is she became possessed and Cullen had to do his duty as a templar, as much as his sorrow as a husband would haunt him? Or worse, what if she did damage before he could stop her? What if she killed this whole family, _her_ family? What if she became the abominations that haunted her nightmares?

These questions floated around her head as she closed her eyes and tried to rest.


	6. Around the Table

**I don't own Dragon Age**

The dinner table was much simpler than what Evelyn was used to. Two loaves of barley bread, a hunk of white cheese, vegetable pottage, and salted pork. "We maintain a small lot of farmland." Branson told them. "It makes up for whatever we can't afford." The entire clan sat around the table, filling up their plates silently. Rosalie had been introduced just before dinner. She was in her early twenties, and still had the ruddiness of a teenager. Her blonde hair was meticulously braided and her face was clear and smooth. Though she smiled and embraced Evelyn when they first met, Evelyn could see Cullen's prediction of jealousy coming true before her. Rosalie was quite pretty, but only in the way that young people were pretty. It would wear off her, eventually.

"Come, let us pray." Branson said. The family clasped hands gently. Cullen took her right hand gently, smiling at her.

"Err." Rosalie's voice grated the air from Evelyn's left as she struggled to decide where to place her hand. The entire room tensed from awkwardness and Evelyn blushed furiously. No one spoke a word of instruction, they simply pretended it wasn't happening. Cullen's grip tighten, clearly frustrated from his family's slowness to adapt. Eventually, Rosalie simply laid her hand on Evelyn's tense shoulder. Quickly, they all closed their eyes and bowed their heads.

"Maker, thank you for your provisions and the bounty unto us you have given." Branson's voice was uncharacteristically solemn. "Bless us as you see fit, and we pray that you shall make this season's harvest a successful one. Andraste, watch over us in the time to come- keep Beatrix and Lief safe. Sustain Mia as she prepares to give birth again. Preserve our mother, so that her mind might return to her." He took a breath. "And thank you for bring us my brother and his wife. I- I don't know if you sent her to the world, but I believe you sent them both to us."

Evelyn peeked open her eyes a bit. Branson's face was pure seriousness, Mia's as well. Terrin was unreadable. Helena scowled, only slightly. Cullen's face was serene. Down at the end of the table, Evelyn made eye contact with Beatrix, who had quietly apologized for her rudeness before dinner. The girl held her gaze for a moment, before she shut her eyes tightly and began to pray.

"We pray that they stay with us for as long as they can, if it is in the Maker's will." Branson continued. "In Andraste's name we pray, amen."

"Amen." The table chanted in response. They dropped hands and tore into the food with glee. Evelyn ate slowly, still learning to function with one hand.

"Did the scouts leave alright, Mia?" Branson asked.

"Yes, I gave them enough food to last them until they reach the next inn- though I still don't understand why they couldn't stay for even a night."

"No doubt our spymaster has work for them." Cullen replied. Mia grunted in agreement. Silence.

"Did you have time to re-shoe their horses before they left, Terrin?" Mia asked her husband, who nodded silently in response. Another silence.

"How was your day at school, Bee?" Branson asked Beatrix.

"Fine." She replied.

"Where do the children go to school?" Evelyn asked, struggling with a tough bit of potato. Cullen made a move to help her, but stopped when she gave him a look.

"At the Chantry." Mia told her, spooning more pottage on her own plate."The two sisters run lessons for all the village children who have the time to go. What did you learn today?"

"We learned about Empress Celene and Orlais."

"Cully, you and the Inquisitor met the Empress, right?" Rosalie asked.

Cullen cleared his throat. "Yes, we did."

"How was it?" Rosalie's voice was sweet with excitement.

Cullen and Evelyn shared a glance. "I found it…" Cullen searched for words. " _Overwhelming_."

"The tales of the Winter Palace don't do it justice." Evelyn added on, trying to humor Rosalie. "It's everything they say and more."

"They say you stopped an assassination plot on the Empress." Rosalie leaned in towards Evelyn. "Did you play the Game? Is that all true too? The intrigues and plotting and espionage and _orgies_ and-"

"Honestly, Rosalie," Mia complained, mouth filled with bread. "Can't we save talk of orgies for after dinner?"

"I am always in the mood for such discussion." Branson said, smiling broadly.

"Not around the children." Helena scolded the table.

Beatrix leaned towards Rosalie and whispered, "What's an 'orgy'?" She was promptly shushed and promised an answer when she was older.

"How did Mother seem when you took her meal to her?" Mia asked Rosalie.

"As well as she ever is." Rosalie responded curtly, tearing pieces from her bread.

"Where does your mother live?" Evelyn asked.

Branson cleared his throat. "She lives in a small cabin just outside the village- she prefers her solitude, the noise of the town disturbs her."

"Meaning she's meaner than a bear and likes to throw things." Rosalie mutter.

"Rosalie!" Mia scolded her.

"Rosalie, she's our mother." Cullen said softly, still unsure of his position in this household. Rosalie dipped her bread in her pottage, silent.

"When will I meet her?" Evelyn asked, trying to deflect tension. By the pause that followed, it was obvious she only added to it.

"I take her meals everyday," Mia said. "Perhaps on one of those days, after you get situated…"

"Tomorrow." Cullen decided, unusually firm. Mia eyed him nervously, but said nothing. The conversation died for a while as they ate. The food was delicious, if simple. Helena spooned the pottage into Lief's mouth, refusing to make eye contact with Evelyn throughout the whole meal. Then, when Lief's plate was empty, Helena looked straight at her and said, "When will you return to your Circle?"

Evelyn opened her mouth to respond, but couldn't think of an answer. It was Cullen who answered. "Evelyn has been granted special permission to remain outside of the Circles. Like Grand Enchanter Vivienne. You've heard of her?" Mia opened her mouth to respond, but Helena cut her off.

"Is that wise, Cullen? Surely Evelyn needs guidance and oversight in case some demon might possess her."

"Helena." Mia said through gritted teeth. "Not at the table."

"Evelyn is a fine mage." Cullen said, trying to control his temper. "There is no fear of her losing control." Evelyn opened her mouth to speak for herself, but Rosalie cut her off.

"I hear that Madame De Fer intends to end the College of Enchanters. They say the two groups will end up in war, inevitably."

"So mages will bring more bloodshed to us." Helena muttered. "Which side do you intend to find yourself on, Inquisitor?"

"Helena…" Branson murmured, but made no move to correct his wife.

"Well, it's true." Helena turned back to Lief, wiping his face clean. "She will pick a side and fight for _her_ kind, eventually. She _tore open the sky_ , for Andraste's sake. She walked in the Fade. Danger follows her and I won't allow it in my house."

"Good thing it isn't _your_ house." Mia retorted. " _I_ am the eldest. _I_ make the decisions. Evelyn stays."

" _I_ am the man of the house, Mia." Branson growled back at her. "Maybe Helena has a point."

"Branson!" Mia gasped. Terrin eyed his wife and his brother-in-law, but said nothing.

"What? Like you didn't fear mages before all this like the rest of us?" Branson rubbed the bridge of his nose, so different from all the smiles he had for them when they first arrived. "Evelyn is lovely, no doubt, but-"

"You forget, _brother_ ," Cullen said coldly. " _I_ am the eldest man in this family. If anyone is in charge, it's me."

" _You_?!" Branson turned a shade redder. It became clear to Evelyn that the jolly man she thought Branson was was just a mistaken identity- he was a _reactionary_ man."You _abandoned_ this family for your bloody Order! And when it all went to shit, you didn't even care about us enough to come home. You _ran_!"

Cullen jumped to his feet, and Branson followed. Evelyn grabbed Cullen's arm, for if Cullen and Branson fought, Cullen would hurt Branson, and that would hurt Cullen in his heart. Mia jumped up as well, slamming her fists on the table.

"Enough!" Mia shouted at the top of her lungs. Both brothers looked at her, instantly turning from rage to shame. "How _dare_ you two ruin this meal for all of us? This, the first meal we've shared in years. You can't even make an effort, can you? To be a _family_ , huh? Well, I won't have this nonsense any more, so at least we got it out now. Both of you, apologize." Neither made a move. " _Now_."

Cullen looked at his sister, then his brother, then Evelyn. She frowned at him. It was foolish to let his pride get in the way of this. It was a side of Cullen she had rarely seen. After a moment, Cullen looked to his brother and sighed. "Forgive me, Branson. I spoke rashly."

"Apology accepted." Branson murmured. "I apologize as well." He turned to leave, but faced Mia with a scowl. "You aren't Mother, Mia. Do not pretend to rule over me." He stepped to leave, but Mia stopped him.

"No, I'm not Mother. Mother loved you despite all your faults. I love you, but not your faults. And unlike Mother, I am not scared of you." Mia held her brother's glare for a moment, before Branson stalked out. Helena picked up Lief and followed him. Mia watched them both leave and, rubbing her temples, made her way of the stairs. Terrin followed her dutifully and silently.

Cullen looked down at the table, then at Evelyn. "Forgive me." He muttered before leaving out the back.

"Well," Rosalie said, picking a piece of untouched bread from Helena's plate and eating it. "It looks like Bee and I will do the dishes, since it doesn't look like you… _Can_." Evelyn winced under her criticism, but nodded despite it all. She stood and followed her husband to the stables.


	7. Stable Confessions

**I don't own Dragon Age**

The stables were nestled behind the house and consisted of two rows of stalls facing each other. Built to accommodate as many mounts as there could be guests in the inn, it was incredible empty now, save for Cullen's bay stallion, her creme filly, Branson's great gray plow horse, and the family's fairly lonely cow (Mia told her Beatrix named her Lilybreath when she was tiny). When Evelyn entered them, they were dimly lit and smelled of rich dung and oats.

Cullen stood at the far end of the stable, his back to her, Al by his side. As she walked to him, Cullen threw a ball made of leather out into the darkness of the night, and Al chased after it like a demon. Evelyn stood a few feet behind her husband, gathering her thoughts. Al ran back, ball in mouth, and, dropping the ball at his master's feet, trotted over to Evelyn. She scratched his head gently, which he happily accepted.

"That was a shameful display." Cullen said, not looking at her. He bent down and picked up the ball, giving it a strong throw. Al leapt forward, but stopped at the light's edge and whined nervously.

"Yes," Evelyn agreed. "It was."

"I've been gone for so long, I've forgotten what it was like to live with a family." Cullen ran a hand through his hair. "An actual family, not soldiers."

"It might behoove you to learn." She muttered. "Maker's breath, Cullen, I've never seen you act like that before. All that talk of being the eldest and- and the _shouting_. In front of the children, Cullen."

"Yes, I am well aware of that fact, thank you." His voice was curt. She sighed and stepped forward, standing beside him.

"I know it must be strange, being surrounded by these people who you hardly know, but you're required to care about them deeply. And I know 'politics' aren't your forté, but you have to learn. This is your family, but they have _egos_ , Cullen. You won't build a place here for us if all you do is step on toes, okay?" She looked at him and his face was hardened. Her heart softened. Perhaps she had gone to hard on him. "I'm on you side, my love. I understand why you feel the way you do." She laid a hand on his shoulder, but he did not move.

"Branson is my father's son in every way." He murmured after a while. "His spitting image. Every once in awhile, when he laughs, I expect him to shout for an ale and call me 'Cully-boy'. My father… Was not a nice man." Cullen turned away from her, pacing down the stables. He had never spoken of his father before, and she had never asked. Evelyn waited to hear more, but, as was Cullen's style, he avoided the topic. "Hearing Branson says those things about you, hearing Helena accuse you… I began to think that maybe bringing you here wasn't the wisest thing to do. They- they could hate you."

The words hit her like a punch. Sure, when Helena was glaring at her like a vulture and Branson was turning beet red at her, she thought they might hate her. But hearing the man she loved most, hearing him contemplate his family's hatred of her, it made it real. It made it hurt.

Cullen continued. "I thought that, maybe, they would respect me if I claimed my birthright. Maybe I could make them change their minds but…" He sighed and looked at her, his eyes repentant. "It was a better plan in my head."

"Maybe it should've stayed there?" She smiled and walked towards him and embraced him. His breath warmed her neck and his embrace was gently and happy. "Cullen, thank you for trying to protect me from your family. It is sweet of you to do so. But-"

"But?" He pulled back looking into her eyes.

"But I think I've gotten used to protecting myself." She smiled teasingly. He chuckled at his Dread Inquisitor and kiss her square on the lips. They hugged once more before Cullen marched back to the inn. "Cullen!" Evelyn called after him. "Be sure to thank Mia! Your sister is on your side, thank the Maker." He raised a hand in acknowledgement. She smiled and watched him disappear inside.

After a moment, she turned back to Al, who was laying in the hay of an empty stall. She went and sat next to him, the fragrant hay filling her nose. She curled up next to his huge, muscular body and began shaking. She had tried to stay strong for Cullen, because he needed her to be. And it was true, she could stand up for herself against the likes of Helena. But what she said had been true. Evelyn, no matter how talented a mage, could still destroy them all. A spirit could possess her at any moment, if she wasn't careful. For all they knew, the Anchor had infected her whole body and she could explode into a Rift, sucking the entire village into the Fade. How could she fight Helena's questions if she had no answers?

Helena reminded her of the templars in charge of her Circle- the imperious eyes, the jabbing questions. The beliefs that were taught since birth and could never change. Memories of her Circle years came flooding back and ended in the same memory as always- one of fire and lightning and blood and death. She covered her ears, trying to block out the voices of mages long since dead, but they were in her mind, forever. As she wept, Alistair came and licked the tears off her face. She gave thanks to Andraste for him, but wished he could wash away the horrors of her past.

Most of all, she wished for her magical body to be held by the one man she knew had forgiven her for it.

 **So, I'll probably add some chapters explaining what happened to Evelyn in the Circles and what Cullen's father was like, but yeah. Here you go.**


	8. The Hut in the Woods

**I don't own Dragon Age.**

"You're no help." Evelyn snorted.

"I am _trying_ , my dear." Cullen said through gritted teeth. Apparently, they don't teach templars how to properly tie a sash around the waist of a woman.

"Oh, go get Mia. I don't want us to be late."

Cullen sighed and left his half-dressed wife to herself. Her dress was made of simple cotton, brown and without decoration. In truth, it was the plainest garment she had worn in the last 3 years or so. It was almost refreshing. At least, it would be if Cullen wasn't useless. Evelyn sighed and pushed her hair from her eyes. Butterflies danced along her stomach and she tried to press down the growing wave of nausea. She couldn't fail at this- she had to win over Cullen's mother.

Mia knocked and came in slowly, a cape over her shoulders. "Here, let me get this." She deftly tied the sash in an instant.

"Thank you." Evelyn said, but Mia didn't look at her. Her body was tense and uncomfortable.

"We must hurry," She muttered. "She'll be cranky if we're late." Together they walked downstairs where Cullen waited for them. It was almost uncomfortable to see her husband without armor and in a simple tunic and cloak. He looked up at her and she melted at his smile's command. He hadn't shaved in a few days and a healthy, scruffy beard was in the process of growing. Evelyn couldn't help but think that it looked nice on him, softening him.

"Come." Mia said, grabbing a basket with bread, salted ham, cheese, and a flask of wine. Cullen threw a cape over Evelyn's shoulders as well, briskly tying it at her throat. _Oh, so he can tie a cape like nothing, but if it's more complicated than a shoelace..._

Outside, the day was crisp and light. Mia walked briskly and Evelyn and Cullen had to jog to keep up to her. Why she was so full of nervous energy, no one could say. But for a woman with child, she sure could move.

Still, it was a beautiful day. The trees were still green with summer and it soaked into the air. Children played along the road. Some stopped and stared at the trio as they ambled down the street. From inside the homes, housewives could be seen taking quick peeks at the newcomers.

The town of Eldham consisted of the inn and the forge at the south end of the village. Along the main road was a tailor, a baker, a leather artisan, and the homes of the farmers who used the land behind the houses on either side. To the east there was the Chantry- a square, squat building that was as grim as the sisters that kept it- two elderly women who went by Mother Repentance and Mother Adoration. It was a small village, smaller than many that Evelyn had been to. But she truly liked it- it's character.

Mia took them towards the Chantry, but along a path behind it that led through the woods. The path was well worn and the woods were mostly silent today.

"Isn't unsafe to leave Mother alone in the woods?" Cullen asked his sister.

"There is nothing in these woods more dangerous than a nug." Mia said, slightly out of breath. "When winter comes, she likes to live with the sisters. But it's better when she's alone."

"Is she really that awful?" Cullen said, a little scared. Mia didn't answer for a while, just kept walking through the silent forest.

"She could be wicked to the local children- Rosalie isn't wrong about that." She finally answered. "But what made us do this- she tried to cook when we were all at a mass one day. Lief was napping, we had left him to sleep. She- she set the kitchen ablaze, burned her hands badly. Almost killed herself and the baby. After that, Branson insisted…" She sighed. "Sorry, that made it seem like I didn't want her gone either. Which I did. She was not safe for us, Cullen. She just wasn't."

"I- I understand. Thank you." Cullen stammered.

"There are good days and bad days, Cully. If we're lucky, her mind will be clear today."

"Yes…" Cullen went silent and Mia was more than happy to follow suit. Evelyn kept quiet, happy to enjoy the walk through the woods and still the nervousness that the Rutherford matriarch would reject her.

They finally approached a simply, small hut in a tiny clearing. There was a small garden with a few rows of dusty spinach struggling in the shade. Mia hesitated outside the door, then turned to them. "Cullen, you wait for me to call you. And Evelyn, you wait after him. One surprise at a time." Evelyn gave her a reassuring smile, but Mia's face was still concerned.

Mia cracked open the door and slide in. Despite themselves, Cullen and Evelyn pressed themselves against the cracked wood of the door, straining to hear.

"Mother, it's Mia. I've got your food for the next few days." A soft murmur came in response. Some shuffling. "Come, Mother. I'll light a fire. It'll warm you."

"Gwendolyn, fetch the water." A voice like dust croaked. "Gregory is coming and I must wash…" Cullen suddenly tensed. It was Mother.

"Mother, Father is not coming. But someone else is…" Cullen took his cue and, taking in a deep breath, entered the cabin. Evelyn pressed her eye against the crack in the door, desperate to see. There was an old chair with its back to the door. Mia crouched in front of it and Cullen kneeled by her side. Behind them, there was a dying fire. The entire room was dark and damp looking, cobwebs forming everywhere. "Mother," Mia went on. "Mother- Cullen has come home. Cullen has come home to see you, Mother."

"C-Cullen? No, he's training, my boy, he's not…" A bony hand reached out and touched Cullen's face. "Cullen… My son… Maker's breath, you've come back to me." Cullen's face broke out in the warmest smile and Evelyn's heart melted.

"Yes, Mother. I've come back to you." His eyes got glassy, but Cullen's face shone. "Your Cully has come home." Despite himself, he even laughed a bit.

"My Cully…" The hand traced Cullen's features. A fingertip grazed the scar of his lip. "Cullen, have you been getting into fights in training? Do the other boys pick on you?"

Cullen looked away and wiped his eyes before turning back and saying, "Yes, Mother. I have been fighting. I was a templar. Then a commander."

"Oh my…" The hand fell back from Evelyn's view. "Well, did you win at least?"

"Oh yes, Mother. I won" Another beaming smile.

"That's my boy. Now, I- I think I feel my strength returning to me. Mia, don't just squat there like a toad, boil some water, I'm making tea." A crooked figure cloaked in patchy brown shakily stood up from the chair. Mia sighed and threw a few logs on the dwindling fire, then went in search of a pot

"Mother," Cullen held his arms out to help her. "Let me. You rest. I-"

"Nonsense. Men never make tea correctly. It's always too strong or too watery. You sit- let your mother care for you, Cullen. It would ease my old heart." With a stiff nod, Cullen helped his mother to her feet. She shuffled around the room, mumbling to herself. Cullen stood awkwardly, watching her carefully.

Mia reappeared, cobwebs in her hair and a rusted iron teapot in hand. She walked to the door and Evelyn scrambled back. When Mia came out, her eyes were hopeful. "It's one of her good days," She whispered. "Cullen is bursting with joy."

Evelyn nodded, so happy for her husband. "When do I go in?"

And with that, Mia's nervousness returned. "When I've said all the prayers I can muster." And she walked off in search of water. Disquieted, Evelyn pressed her eye against the crack in the door once more. Cullen had sat down, his mother frantically sweeping.

"I wish Mia had told me you were coming, this place is such a mess… It's been so long, so long since I've seen my Cully, my sweet boy…"

"Yes, Mother, forgive me-"

"But Andraste told me you would come back." His mother looked up at Cullen and Evelyn saw her face for the first time. She looked like Mia, if Mia had been dragged through the last two Blights by her hair, through the mud and the rubble. Her hair was a dry, brittle silver, and her face was wrinkled with grief. But along her neck, and creeping up her cheek, was an angry red scar of melted flesh. From the fire Mia spoke of. Her eyes were blue like the sky, but cloudy with age. "Andraste came to me in a dream and she was so beautiful and she said to me, 'Beatrix, your son is coming to you.'" Evelyn realized that Beatrix was named for Mia and Cullen's Mother. "And I just didn't believe her. But-" She lifted her bony arms in praise towards the sky and shook them. "Praise me to Andraste and the Maker, she was right. My boy, my beautiful Cully has returned to me…"

"I am so glad you're feeling well, Mother." Cullen's voice was warm with a smile.

"Yes, I've been ill… Ever since the fire. So clumsy of me, I was just baking bread and- I was baking bread and the fire just…" Her eyes went unfocused and her hand went slack. "Yes, well… Enough of me. How are you, Cullen?"

With a heavy sigh, Cullen said, "Relieved to be home, Mother. It's been- too long."

"I'm so happy, Cully. Truly. Thank you." She leaned against the fireplace. "Mia has been so busy with her girl, and Branson with the inn… If only you could be married too, if we could just find a woman for you…" Cullen hesitantly turned and looked at the door before looking back at his mother. Evelyn tensed. Should she go in without Mia? Would all be well? Mother was fine so far, it couldn't hurt her if Evelyn appeared, if they took things slowly.

"Mother- that's one of the reasons I came back. There's-" He turned back to the door and gestured. "There's someone I'd like you to meet." Her stomach twisted itself into a knot. Should she go in? Was it safe? Before she could think any more, she was opening the door and standing in the musty cabin.

"Mother, this is Evelyn… My wife." Cullen stood and held a hand out to her, which he placed on her hip, calming her.

"Maker's breath!" Beatrix gasped, her eyes widened like a child's. Inside, Evelyn could see how tiny she was, how bent and curved. "W-wife. But- but how… I must make a cake, get the sisters to-"

"No, Mother, we're already married." Cullen took his mother in his arms and laid her down in the chair. "You don't need to do anything."

"Wife, Cullen… She's your wife." Her blue eyes were glassy with confusion.

"Madame…" Evelyn said gently, crouching down to her level. Beatrix smelled of dirt and sweat."I'm sorry for the surprise- We just got married and we wanted to come to you immediately after." She laid a hesitant hand on Beatrix's, feeling the bony skin underneath. "Forgive us."

Beatrix looked up to her and her eyes were soft. "It's alright, I just- Such a surprise… You are quite beautiful- Evelyn, correct?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry, my mind… W-where did you meet Cullen?" Evelyn looked up at Cullen, trying to decide what was the easiest truth. Surely, explaining the entire Inquisition was too complicated.

"We both worked for an organization to help restore peace." She said finally.

"The templars?"

"No."

"Oh… Where do you come from, Evelyn?"

"The Free Marches. I'm of the House Trevelyan and-"

"Maker's breath, a _lady_! Cullen, you married a _lady_!" She gasped and looked up at her son with shock and pride. Cullen blushed, embarrassed and happy. "Forgive my manners, my lady."

"There's nothing to forgive." Evelyn said simply. "I'm the least of a lady you can find."

"Still… Wait, Cullen- does this mean- Are you a _lord_ , now?"

Evelyn laughed, and Cullen joined her. "No," Evelyn explained. "Well, maybe. We're working out the logistics."

"Oh my… Come, you must be tired from your walk." Beatrix rose and forced Evelyn to take her seat. "Where's Mia with that water? Oh my, a _lady_ , Cullen, you married a _lady_!"

"Yes, Mother, I'm aware." Cullen smiled at Evelyn. Things were going swimmingly.

"And so beautiful too. Cullen, I'm so proud." She paced nervously, not knowing what to do. The scar across her cheek crinkled with her smile. "When can I expect more grandchildren?"

"Oh, well- Er, the thing is- I don't know." Cullen stammered out. Evelyn blushed and wanted to disappear.

"No matter, it'll come. Here, my lady, let me take your coat." Beatrix came close and shakily untied the knot.

"Please, call me Evelyn."

"Of course," She smiled as she pulled the cape away. "It's just- Maker!" Beatrix gasped and stepped back, pulling the cloak to her chest in fear. Evelyn followed her eyes to her half-limb and blushed furiously, trying to cover it with one hand. How foolish of her, to think it wouldn't come as a shock to an old woman that her new daughter-in-law was crippled.

"How- how did this happen, my dear?" Beatrix asked shakily.

"An… _accident_. A poison." Evelyn said tactfully, deciding that the Anchor was a bit complex to understand.

"You poor dear…"

"Mother." Cullen said with a slight warning.

"Where are you from, Evelyn?" Beatrix asked, now suspicious, her bony hands clutching her cloak tight.

"Ostwick." Evelyn replied. "I lived there in the Circle whilst-"

"The Circle? You're a templar, too?" Beatrix asked with a smile. Evelyn's heart lept to her throat. She looked to Cullen and saw the same fear in his eyes. What to answer? She tried to find something, some lie, some deception, but couldn't think of any. Beatrix waited, her eyes imploring. Evelyn swallowed nervously.

"No." She said definatively. "I was a member of the Circle before the rebellion."

Beatrix's face froze, a half-smile still on her face. "You're… A mage?"

"Yes." A single syllable repose was all Evelyn could muster. Her throat felt dry, her stomach felt sick. Her heartbeat was racing. Beatrix looked to Cullen, who gave her no words, only a wide-eyed gaze. Then she turned to Evelyn again, her face suddenly empty. Evelyn opened her mouth to speak.

Quick as lightning and with a blood-curdling scream, Beatrix launched herself at Evelyn and wrapped her hands around her throat. For such old, bony hands, they possessed some inhuman strength that made Evelyn's eyes pop and her blood race. She choked and fell to the ground out of the chair, Beatrix on top of her. Cullen tried to rip his mother off of her, but to no avail. For an old woman, Beatrix was formidable.

"You she-witch!" Beatrix screeched, her voice foreign. "You will not take my son's soul, no matter the _hex_ you've placed on him! I will kill you before I let him be taken in by you, _wench_!" Evelyn tried to pry Beatrix's hands from her throat, but she couldn't. The edges of her vision began to turn black and all she could see was Beatrix's face, twisted with rage, as she banged Evelyn's head against the floor.

"Mother!" Cullen's voice boomed, imploring, begging. Evelyn and he both knew they could disarm his mother, but they would hurt her and they couldn't hurt her, they simply couldn't. But Evelyn felt the life draining from her as her lungs heaved to breath. One spell, one spell could knock the old woman from her. But she knew Beatrix would break a rib or two, and she couldn't let that happen. But she didn't want to die at the hands of her mother-in-law.

"Mother!" Mia's voice was like Andraste's herself, and she threw herself at her aging mother. Together, she and Cullen managed to wrestle her off Evelyn, who crawled out the door, coughing and heaving. She leaned against the outside wall of the hut, finding her breath again as she heard Beatrix scream and hurl curses at her while her son and her daughter attempted to sedate her. Evelyn's vision cleared as blood and oxygen flooded to her brain, but she couldn't stop her hands from shaking. Suddenly, Cullen burst from the hut and scooped her up in his arms and was running now, towards the village.

"Maker, I'm a fool." She heard him mutter. "A goddamn fool. I should've never let you-Never let her. Sweet Maker, are you alright, my love?" He looked down at her and she managed a nod. Her throat felt like a block of wood, and her voice was surely gone forever- at least, it felt like it. Cullen hugged her to his chest and stopped running, his lungs heaving. "We must wait for Mia." But he kept holding her, stroking her hair with his hand. Evelyn closed her eyes and breathed in his scent. Underneath the musk of the hut and the smell of the forest, he was still Cullen- warm and oaky and comforting. She lost herself in the scent of her husband and tried to find her peace once more.

After a while, Mia came huffing through the forest, her swelling belly forcing her to waddle. "She's in bed now." She managed. "She's all worn out. Now… What in Andraste's blessed name were you two thinking?!" She turned her fury to both of them, her eyes bright with anger.

"Mia," Cullen began. "I thought-"

"No, Cullen, you didn't. You didn't think. Because if you had, this mess wouldn't of happened." Cullen had had sense in fearing his sister's wrath, Evelyn thought. It was terrifying. "What possessed you to think that Mother could handle this, _all_ of this in one day? And _you_ , Evelyn, how could you be so naive? Mother is unpredictable and fragile. Why would you think that telling her everything, _everything_ , would help?!"

"It's not her fault!" Cullen interjected.

"It's no one's bloody fault, but it was a disaster all the same." Mia yelled back. With a great sigh, she rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly looking like Cullen. "Let's just head back home- I'm too pregnant to deal with this right now."

"Mia, I'm sorry." Cullen suddenly said, concern for his sister coming through his defensiveness.

"Don't worry, Cully. I'll be fine." With a sigh, she started walking again. "Terrin'll just have to massage my ankles for a while when we get home." And they set back home through the forest. But Cullen refused to set her down. Evelyn became aware of his racing heartbeat, of his arms just beginning to stop shaking. He had been afraid too- afraid for his bride, afraid for his mother. And somehow, that comforted her. Evelyn closed her eyes and tried to forget this day happened.


	9. Of Dreams and Ashes

**I don't own Dragon Age**.

Cullen pressed a cool cloth against Evelyn's throat gently. The water dripped down and darkened the fabric of her dress. The pain began to radiate out from her throat to her collarbones and shoulders, a deep resonating ache. Evelyn shut her eyes and tried to swallow, but the rawness of her throat stopped her.

"Can you speak?" He asked her. Evelyn shook her head, not willing to try. "It'll be better in a few days. Just rest." Cullen kissed her forehead sweetly, but his lips felt dry and distant on her skin. He smiled weakly and she smiled back. As he left, she laid herself down and forced herself to sleep.

"The witch deserved her treatment." Helena mused, efficiently embroidering a pillowcase. "Beatrix has enough sense about her to know when she is threatened."

"Enough, Helena." Mia sighed, pounding out bread on the bar, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and flour all over her swollen belly. Frustration danced along her face as she tried to vent her anger through her baking, not her sister-in-law. Cullen watched her as he sliced onions for the meal tomorrow.

"It's true. No matter how old, a good human can always tell when a magical _thing_ is nearby. She's resilient-"

"Evelyn wasn't _threatening_ Mother, Helena." Cullen cut in, laying down his knife. "I was there. She was sweet and just happened to mention-"

"Mention the fact that she is not our kind?"

" _Our_ kind?" Cullen asked, trying not to roll his eyes.

"Don't pretend you don't understand me, Cullen." Helena said, looking up at him with her dark eyes. "It's obscene to associate with them. Perhaps your years of service with the Templars have blurred those lines between the kinds, but they _are_ there. Maker, Cullen- to be around one of them, to have them in our home… To share a _bed_ with them…" Helena raised her eyebrows in condescension and looked back down to her needlework.

"Helena, I will not let you talk of my wife like that." Cullen used his knife to point at her, his voice raising. "Evelyn has saved the world time and time again and if you-"

"Cullen." Branson stood in the doorway, a shadowy figure. "Respect. My wife." His words were punctuated like a punch. Cullen tightened his grip on his knife, but lowered it and looked away. Branson's shadow disappeared and Mia sighed.

"Let's have no more of this." She declared, and promptly went to muttering about the entire conversation to her lump of dough. Cullen looked up and watched Helena pointedly stab her needlework. He saw a flash of eyes from the staircase and saw young Bee, in her nightgown, crouched at the top step. He raised a secret hand in greeting. She stared at him for a moment, then disappeared.

Sighing, Cullen took up his knife and resumed cutting the onions.

Evelyn found herself in a great corridor lined with bookcases, filled to the brim with leather bound books that smelled of aged paper and ink. She walked forward, running her fingertips along the spines of the books, feeling every word pass into her fingertips and up to her scalp, tingling at the crown of her head. Like ice in her veins. She closed her eyes, mesmerized by the sensation.

When she opened them, she saw a man, standing at the end of the corridor. A templar. He was plain, with a long face and sad gray eyes. She knew the face. She knew that face.

"Wait." He said, his voice dusty. He held his hand out to her in greeting, in friendship. "Wait."

With a great _whoosh_ of wind, the templar was there, right in front of her, gripping her hand so tight, she could feel the bones crack. And suddenly, it was Cullen, his eyes burning with pain. A flash of light and- Oh Maker, half his face was gone, melted away, burned to a crisp and the flesh was angry red and the bone glittered. The eyes were so accusatory, so piercing. _I said 'wait'_.

She screamed and the corpse of Cullen disintegrated into dust, whipping around her. She turned to run, but there was Beatrix, her face skeletal. Her eyes were gone, only black holes to death and despair. She grabbed Evelyn's throat and Evelyn did not stop her. As she choked the life from Evelyn, she wasn't Beatrix anymore- she was Lydia, the First Enchanter of the Ostwick Circle.

"It's your fault." Her voice was like the rustling of dry paper, but it roared in her eyes like her blood. " _Your_ fault." Tears streamed down Evelyn's face as the life was choked out of her. She fought and fought against the iron grip of the dead Enchanter, but all she could feel was pain. Pain and the guilt in knowing she was right.

Evelyn woke with a jolt, her face wet and hot from tears. A slice of light cut through the darkness around her. The door was open. Cullen stood, his shadow long.

"Is everything alright, my love?" He asked. "I heard-"

Vigorously, she shook her head yes, furiously wiping at her face. She refused to turn to face him, for surely his face would be kind and she would cry and he would comfort her. No, he could not comfort her. He could not know about her past in the Circle. For if he did, he would surely not love her. Surely.

Without a word, Cullen closed the door, sat on the bed to remove his boots and his clothes, and curled up next to her, separated by a foot of empty space. After a moment, hesitantly, he laid a hand on her waist. She gave in- she grabbed his hand and pulled his arm all around her. His body came right to her, curled along her own shape and enveloping her in his warmth and his comfort. As his scent wreathed around her and she felt his breath on the back of her neck, she closed her eyes and prayed for dreamless sleep.

Cullen was in the midst of an army, warring with some unseen enemy. His armor was heavy and sweat trickled down his forehead, stinging his eyes. He gripped his sword tight and pressed forward.

"Burn the witch! _Burn her_!"

Cullen stopped dead in his tracks. He saw through the soldiers in front of him, saw to their enemy. A beautiful woman in a white dress, her loose hair glowing like flames whipping in the wind, tied to a stake. Was it Andraste? Was he watching them burn the Bride of the Maker? But then she looked up and Cullen's heart dropped. No, they were burning _his_ bride.

"Cullen!" Evelyn's eyes were wide with fear. "Cullen, save me! _Save me!_ " He dropped his sword and shield and tried to push through the crowds. But all the soldiers were made of stone, they could not be moved. A figure approached the pyre- Knight Commander Meredith, her eyes blazing white with the power of lyrium. In her hand was a torch.

"No!" He called out, but Meredith paid him no mind. The crowd cheered and began chanting, "Burn the witch! Burn the witch!" On the other side of the pyre, a Templar stepped up with an identical torch. It was his father- no, it was Branson. No, it was his father. The face was cut into stone, angry, but it seemed to morph between his father and his brother. At the same time, they both lowered their torches and the pyre caught aflame. Evelyn screamed and Cullen managed to force his way through the crowd. He lept onto the pyre and embraced his bound wife.

As he tugged at the ropes, Evelyn grabbed onto him. Where her hands touched him, his body went cold, despite the flames that grew around them. He looked into her face and saw her skin glowing blue and white with lyrium. "You're _doomed_." She said with a thousand voices from a thousand ages. She opened her mouth and painful light bled out of it and his eyes burned with pain as his mind and soul were filled with that old song, the old song of lyrium and everything burned and ached and it all melted away.

Cullen woke slowly from his dream, but his body was cold with sweat. Evelyn was next to him; he was spread out on his own side. His heart pounded in his head as he rubbed the back on his neck, trying to shake off the tension of the dream. Lyrium would help him, just to forget, just to get through the nightmares…

 _No_ , a strong voice in his head that sounded like Evelyn said. And it was right. He had to be sharp, he had to be present. Someone had to be here to protect Evelyn. And that someone had to be him.

Yet as he turned on his side to watch his wife breath as he fell asleep, he couldn't shake the growing fear that maybe his beloved could harm herself- or him.


	10. Work

**I don't own Dragon Age. Seriously, just makin' this up as I go along.**

Evelyn stood and watched the bread bake, which was about as interesting as it sounds. Mia had a headache and had decided it best if she spend the day in bed. Helena took charge of the inn, which meant Evelyn was given the most menial tasks in order to keep her separate from the rest of the family. Terrin was busy in the forge and Cullen joined Branson as he re-shackled the roof before winter. Beatrix was at school and Lief played on the floor by the hearth with small iron soldiers, made by his uncle. Rosalie was nowhere to be found.

Helena was icily silent, and the air was filled with tension. When Helena suggested they take drinks to the men, Evelyn jumped and volunteered to take them alone. With a withering glare, Helena gave her a jug of water with a ladle and sent her to the roof. Free from the prison which was Helena's presence, Evelyn almost skipped down the halls and up the stairs. She found a small hatch at the end of a hallway and pushed it open with her shoulder, spilling light that blinded her temporarily.

Out on the roof, Branson and Cullen were tossing the broken clay shackles onto a tarp that was spread out on the ground below. Both had their shirts off, but only Cullen was worth looking at. The sweat on his skin and the thick hair of his chest glistened in the sun. Evelyn suddenly wondered how quickly they could sneak back into their room, how quickly her dress could come off, how long before-

"Evelyn!" Branson called. His belly was worse without a shirt, protruding forward like Mia's. His face seemed to droop under the sweat and the sun made him look like a boiled egg. He smiled at her and Evelyn held out the tray. "Thank you." He took a deep swig of water.

"Thank you, Evie." Cullen said, taking his drink. As he sipped at it, two streams trickled out of the corner of his mouth and down his cheeks, his neck, his chest. _Oh sweet Maker_ , Evelyn thought. Cullen caught her eye and she saw a glint of mischief in her husband's eyes. _He's flirting with me, the stupid oaf._ She giggled and opened her mouth to say something.

"Anything else?" Branson asked, clearly dismissing her. She pursed her lips and made a move to leave.

"Brother," Cullen stopped her. "Evelyn could help us."

"A _woman_?" He gwuaffed. "With her… _Disability_?"

Evelyn stifled a sigh. Okay, she didn't have half an arm- get it, understand it, see it, process it, then get over it. If another provincial asshole pointed it out to her, she might punch him. Stepping past Cullen, she extended her hand (the one she still possessed, thank you very much). With a deep, soft breath, she concentrated and one by one the shackles of the roof began to peel upwards to the sky. They would spin a bit in the sky before they flew off the edge, down to the tarp. Evelyn flexed- it had been too long since she felt the magic move through her veins, the Fade warp around her (as Cole had told her). Like ice dripping down her spine.

Suddenly, Branson grabbed her arm and pulled her away, interrupting her flow of magic. The shackles all fell where they floated, breaking into several pieces.

"Listen here," Branson said through gritted teeth. "You can do that… That _thing_ in private. But out here, in the open-"

"Let go of her!" Cullen growled, ripping Evelyn from his grip. Evelyn shook herself free of both men, but neither paid her much mind. The brothers glared at each other like wolves, ready to leap at the other's throat. She had been foolish, Evelyn knew. Quickly, she reopened the hatch and crawled back inside the hut. As she glanced over her shoulder, she saw the brothers slowly relax and return to work, but they did not look at each other.

Inside, Evelyn caught her breath and rubbed her temples. The Rutherfords were nothing if not… Angry. Little angry blonde children. Evelyn smiled at that mental image. As she transversed the halls, she found herself standing at the top of the stairs, holding onto her smile. She knew that Helena's gaze would wither her smile, and she couldn't bear that anymore. With as much confidence as she could muster, she hurried down the stairs and straight out the door, closing it behind her.

Outside, the sun was warm on her cheeks and she smiled into the light. Periodically, she heard the crash of the shackles her husband and Branson would throw down from the roof. Evelyn made her way to the back of the inn, where she found Alistair chewing on a branch- and chewing looked a whole lot like devouring. she squatted low and scratched him behind his ears. He whined happily and crushed more wood between his jaws.

"I would tell you to stop, but you can probably handle some wood." She sighed. In Ostwick, she could vaguely remember her uncle owning a Mabari- a mean, black thing that knocked her down whenever it got the chance. She had only been four when it had been killed on a hunting trip- the same that took her uncle. There had not been much mourning for him; he was pushing 80 and had wandering hands. Her cousin, Lord Bernard, was 50 at the time and took the title of Lord Trevelyan eagerly. Ostwick thrived under his hand. Last she had heard, his son, Lord Rickard, was now the head of their house, and lord of Ostwick. He had inherited while she was in the Circle- she hadn't seen him in many years.

"Where is your family, huh?" She asked Al. "Where's your mother and father and your brothers and sisters? Do you dream of them still?" The dog gave no reply.

Her father was still alive- still round and jovial. He had sent a few letters to Skyhold, mostly nonsense, but they made her smile. Her mother wrote too- these were normally directed to Josephine and contained political implications. Once, she had asked the ambassador to 'convey her feelings of goodwill and affection to her daughter, sometimes called the Herald of Andraste". Truthfully, that was the closest she had ever been to saying, "I love you." It is hard to love a mage.

Al's ears pricked up and a low growl was born in his throat. Evelyn looked to the trees, but could only see shadows and green. Suddenly, Al lept into a chase and disappeared into the woods, leaving Evelyn alone.

She sighed and pushed her hair back from her eyes. Even the dog could do without her. Wandering now, she made her way to the other side of the inn, where the forge was. Curiously, she crept inside.

The heat was scorching to say the least, instantly drying her eyes. The air was like a desert wind and her lungs dried up after one breath. A fire danced in the furnace, spilling orange light across the dark room, and heat waves pooled out into the air. There, in the middle of the cluttered forge, was Terrin, his shirt off and his red chest hair matted and wet with sweat. He was a mountain of a man, truly, as he pounded at a glowing lump. He didn't register Evelyn standing there so she glanced around the forge. Unlike the ones in Skyhold and Haven, which were bustling, filled to the brim with armor and weapons, and orderly to a fault, Terrin kept his forge messy and simple. Tools were scattered and piled on every flat surface, with just as many sheets of paper with sketches and orders scrawled over them in a child-like print. Pitch forks, shovels, and other farm equipment hung on the walls, along with the occasional sword and shield. One sword hung close to her, black in the glowing firelight. She reached up to touch it, and then-

"Fire." Terrin's voice was low and gruff, spitting out the two syllables like bile. Evelyn spun around to see him holding his tongs in the dying flames. For a moment, she didn't know what to do. But then Terrin turn to look at her and spat, "Fire!" And she scrambled for the pile of wood by the furnace, grabbing a piece and tossing it in. Sparks flew up, but still the flames burned low.

"No." Terrin told her. "Use magic."

Evelyn looked up at him, unsure, but Terrin's straightforward brown eyes told her, _Yes_. Without another word, she held out her hand and flames shot forward, burning the wood and turning the strangely shaped piece of metal a burning gold. Terrin grunted his approval and Evelyn pulled her hand back. Terrin pulled his tongs out of the flames and began pounding the piece again. After a moment, he said, "You hold it."

Again, she obeyed and gripped the tongs as tight as she could. With a huff, Terrin lifted his hammer above his head and brought it down on the glowing piece of metal, flattening it. The shock ran through Evelyn's arm and she cried out in pain.

"Hold it still." Terrin commanded her. She listened, and gritted her teeth. When he brought his hammer down again, she was ready. The shock still made her body ache, but less so. Again and again, Terrin struck the metal and Evelyn held it for him. And when he was done, she dunk the contraption into water and watched it boil.

After hours of work, Evelyn's garments had been soaked by sweat, then dried by heat, then soaked once more. Her hair was a mess and when she looked down at her hand, all she could see were blisters. Her body was more sore that she had ever been in her entire life. Yet, when she looked to Terrin, who held up the strangely shaped piece of metal they had worked on and said, "This is part of Master Dennin's wagon wheel," she smiled so broad her cheeks ached. Terrin clapped her heartily on the back, almost knocking her over, and walked with her back to the inn.

 **Okay. So I haven't updated in awhile. I'm a shit person, I know. Exams and everything are intense. But here you go.**


	11. Interlude - The Gold Coin Game

**I don't own Dragon Age**.

"Your move," Dorian Pavus said, leaning back into his chair with ease. He stretched his arms behind his head and smiled at Varric as the dwarf pondered his next move. Out of the corner of his eye, Dorian saw a serving boy eye him as he watered the healing herbs in the garden. Whether from fear or lust, the magister would never know- but the boy was pretty, maybe 20 or 23. Dorian would let some flirtatious comments slip around the boy and see how long it took before Dorian woke to knocks on his door at midnight.

"I don't like that look in your eye, Sparkles." Varric growled. "It gives me the creeps."

"How could something _this_ stunning give you the creeps?" Dorian smiled and gestured to his visage. Varric gave half a smile and turned back to the game, moving his queen to C5. Dorian glance up at a pacing figure on the ramparts.

"It seems our lady Inquisitor is deliberating her plan of attack towards our commander." Dorian gestured upwards. When Varric turned to look, Dorian assessed the board and squelched the urge to cheat- the dwarf was too clever to be fooled.

On the rampart, one could just make out the slender, pleasing figure of Evelyn Trevelyan pacing. Her auburn hair burned in the bright sun. She would walk off, disappearing slightly from view, before rushing back to the edge closest to the garden, biting her lip in frustration.

"Is Curly really that hard to process?" Varric said, turning back to Dorian. "Cullen is about as complicated as milk, if you're asking me."

"Yes, Cullen does have a certain… _Dairy_ quality. Do you think she'll act on her feelings?"

"Are you sure she _had_ feelings?"

Dorian gave Varric a look that said, _You_ _ **wish**_ _I had time to tell you all the feelings she is having_. Varric sighed as Dorian moved his queen to E2.

"I think she'll make a move soon enough." Varric nodded as his slide his bishop to C3.

"I concur." Dorian said. "But I don't think anything will come of it."

"Truly?"

"Truly." Dorian deftly took the bishop with one of his pawns and rolled the fallen piece in his hands. "They are both reserved- to reserved for their own good."

"Shy people fall in love too, Sparkles." Varric took the pawn using his queen. "Or is there a law against that in Tevinter?"

"I'm sure there's a subsection or two on the subject." Dorian mused. "But even so, she is a mage and he is a templar-"

" _Was_ a templar."

" _Is_ a templar." Dorian said firmly, taking a pawn at D5 with his rook. "I hold our commander in the highest esteem- you don't look like _that_ and not have me think highly of you- but he is still a templar, through and through. Such a love is sure to end badly."

"You think so little of mage-templar relations?" Varric asked, maneuvering his knight away from the encroaching rook.

"Only from what I've seen- Cullen _did_ participate in the slaughter at Kirkwall."

"So did _I_ , Dorian."

"And I'm sure you did what your Champion thought was best. But that doesn't change a man's nature." He moved his queen to H5 and sat back in his chair, smiling. "The two of them will never last."

"Care to make that a wager?"

Dorian looked up and met the dwarf's gaze with a gleaming smile. "What will it be, Master Tethras?" He moved his rook back to his king's side, and waiting Varric's response.

"Let's say… 100 sovereigns."

Dorian almost choked on his laughter. "You seem to think that I have sewn my family jewels into my outfits. While that's a good idea, I am not made of money, Varric."

"Scared, Sparkles?" Varric's mouth twisted into a grin.

"Heresy, my friend." Dorian smoothed out his moustache and moved his rook over a spot. "And what are the terms of this wager?"

"I say Curly and Boss get together and stay together."

"Until…?" Dorian raised his eyebrows. "A week? A month? A _year_?" Varric smiled and looked up the the ramparts one more time. Evelyn looked to be praying now, her face turned to the warm sun. Varric turned to the game and moved his rook to the edge of the board, in line with Dorian's queen.

" _Perpetuity_?" Dorian laughed and shook his head at the dwarf, moving his queen safely from the castle. "You are nothing if not a romantic, I'll give you that. Are you hoping for some Inquisition-themed sequel to _Swords and Shields_?"

"The Seeker would _love_ that… No," Varric said, shaking his head and moving his rook down along the edge of the board. "No, I just… Know. Cullen and the Inquisitor are gonna end up together."

"Be that as it may, their love will surely burn out. If not soon, then after all this is done. After Corypheus is in the ground and the Inquisition's work is over, there will be nothing to bind them together." Dorian moved his own rook to C5 and set it down with flare. " ' _I just know_.' Really, amazing, Varric."

"The same way you know that the serving boy is gonna end up in your pants by the end of the week."

" _Varric_! You scandalize me." Dorian smiled. "Fine. If the Inquisitor and Cullen remain in a relationship, you win. Though how we'll ever be able to measure that, I'll never know."

"And if they call it quits, you win."

Dorian shook his head and laughed. "You do like a risk."

Varric shrugged. "I like pulling for the goods guys, is that such a bad thing?"

"Well, I like money and I thank you for the gift you intend to hand over to me. Your move, my friend."

Varric looked to the board, then back at the Inquisitor, whose back was turned to them, her hands on her waist. He smiled and looked back to the game. Slowly, he moved his queen to G3. Dorian jumped up to retaliate, but his smile faded after examining the board. The mage frowned and glared at the dwarf.

"This is no premonition, Varric. This means nothing." Dorian growled.

"Of course not, Sparkles." Varric put his hands behind his head and smiled and his angry friend. "Of course not."

Two years later, as the pair of them watched their lovely Inquisitor show off the simple band of gold Cullen had put around her finger, Varric smiled wickedly. "Come on, Sparkles. I think we can call it."

"Oh Maker…" Dorian pinched the bridge of his nose. "And I was going to buy myself a new fall wardrobe when I got home."

"I guess you'll just have to be behind the time for a season." Varric clapped Dorian on the back roughly. The new magister scowled, but managed to smile glowingly when Evelyn displayed her hand for him. As Dorian kissed her cheek, he thought about how he would soon become the poorest member of the Magisterium to date.

 **Sorry, this is just a little interlude before finals kick in and I just want to give my favorite moustachioed husband some screen time. Confession time- Dorian is actually my fav. I'm planning on writing a fanfic for him, after this one is done. We shall see.**


	12. An Old Friend with A Silly Hat

**I don't own Dragon Age.**

Evelyn readjusted her grip on the large wicker basket. It was market day, and Mia had enlisted Rosalie, Beatrix, and herself to shop for the inn and the family. After leaving the house, Rosalie promptly ran off to the wheat fields.

"That's where Mama says all the no good, rotten teenagers go." Beatrix warned Evelyn. The hood of her blue cape was a bit too big and made Beatrix's large eyes look comically sinister on her face. Evelyn gave her a hesitant smile and Beatrix placed a light hand around Evelyn's wrist. Together, they walked to the market.

Lining the main street, each farmer and vendor had set up a little stand along either side of the road and were shouting back and forth between them. You'd think for a village that was only home to 75 people, no crowd would ever be large enough to constitute a 'mob', but the proud folk of Eldham would prove you wrong. Evelyn had rarely seen so many grizzled old women leering over preserved vegetables. She held the basket tighter and wished she could hold Beatrix's hand.

Under Beatrix's guidance, the two of them meandered through the pulsing crowd to one of the vegetable vendors.

"Hey there, little Bee." The old man said. He had an impressive arrangement of preserved beets, turnips, and lettuce before him, all in neat little glass jars. The man himself had prominent age spots that made him look like a speckled egg. "I've got your Ma's order right here." He proceeded to pull out a long procession of jars containing vegetables long since turned brown in oil, vinegar, and other preservatives. Beatrix put each jar into the basket carefully. Evelyn felt the weight pull and her hand, the handles digging into the meat of her fist.

"And you're the Inquisitor?" The old man said, peering at her from beneath his furry eyebrows.

"I was." Evelyn nodded, smiling gently. The old man screwed up his face and nodded.

"One of my nephews is one of your scouts. A good boy. I'm glad he's doing some good for the world." The old man held out his hand and Beatrix put five silver coins into his wrinkled palm.

"Good day, Hamish." Beatrix chirped, and led Evelyn along. Each vendor gazed at her similarly: part suspicion, part awe, part boredom. The butcher hardly even gazed at her, just grunted and handed them salted beef wrapped in brown paper. Evelyn wanted to stay, to talk and discover, but Beatrix was oddly focused for a little girl and offered very little time for chit chat. She would, however, offer strange insights like, "Master Derrick has a bad plow. Father has to fix it every year," or, "Mistress Rudhale likes to knit, but Aunt Helena says her work is embarrassingly bad." Beatrix was nothing if not clever and Evelyn smiled at it.

Under the hubbub of the market, Evelyn made out a lute and a singing voice. It was sweet and made her think of Skyhold. Did she miss the business of the stronghold, the plans and the people and the voices? Always going off somewhere, always doing something. Yes, she missed the doing. She had made Skyhold home and she desired to go home, to work again. But she knew what Eldham held for Cullen, and she would strive to make it her home as well.

The music _was_ terribly beautiful. Evelyn suddenly stopped as Beatrix was examining some eggs that a prodigiously fat woman named Greta was trying to sell. She grabbed the girl's shoulder and ran through the crowd.

"Aunt- Aunt _Evelyn!_ " Beatrix yelled, stumbling as she tried to stop Evie. "Where are you going?" The bag swung at Evelyn's side but she didn't care. She had to find the music.

Adjacent to a goat shepherd and his fenced-in wards, a tall young lady plucked at a lute and sang beautifully. A white haired young man sat next to her and pitifully shook a tambourine. In front of them, a ridiculously wide brimmed hat sat upturned, asking for coins. Evelyn shoved the basket into Beatrix's arms.

"Cole!" She shouted. The boy looked up and his blue eyes brightened and sparkled against the dark bags beneath them.

"You're here!" His child-like voice was so sweet, it made Evelyn's stomach hurt. He threw his tambourine down to the ground with a _clang_. Maryden looked up and smiled at the Inquisitor. Cole lept to his feet and raced over to her, hugging Evelyn tightly. He was all bone and happiness, but Evelyn returned the hug tightly. Cole had unsettled most everyone else in Skyhold, but Evelyn held a special place in her heart for the confused little boy.

"Cole, I'm so glad you and Maryden are here. How are your travels?"

"Very well, Lady Inquisitor." Maryden said, slipping her hand into Cole's. "Cole does much good for the people. And we always speak of your feats, my lady."

"Please, I-"

"Hello." Cole kneeled down to Beatrix's level and smiled. "My name is Cole. And you are Beatrix."

"How did you know that?" Beatrix asked, clutching the wicker basket close to her chest.

"Cole." Maryden said, encouraging.

"Yes- I am special," He said simply to Beatrix. "I can feel how people feel sometimes. You are Cullen's niece? I help people with Evelyn and Cullen."

Beatrix looked at the strange gangly boy up and down. After a moment, she asked, "Is that your hat?"

Cole smiled and grabbed the hat, scooped out the few coins they had earned, and placed it on his head. The sight of that ridiculously ugly hat almost brought tears to Evelyn's eyes. "Would you like to try it on?" Cole asked the girl.

"It's very large," Beatrix said. She then pushed back her hood and Cole placed the hat on her head. It comically fell down past her eyes and Evelyn laughed. Beatrix pushed back the brim of the hat and smiled widely.

"Where are you planning to stay?" Evelyn asked Maryden.

"We just arrived a few hours ago." Maryden said. "We were going to go to the local inn or tavern. Could you show the way?"

Evelyn looked down at Beatrix and smiled. "I think we could."

That night, the parlor of the inn was bustling and loud, like Evelyn had never seen before. Branson poured out drinks as fast as he could, and Helena was serving food at an alarming rate. Mia helped as she could, and Cullen did his best to carry the correct drinks to the correct table with Rosalie's assistance (which often ended badly. It was good fortune that her husband became a templar and not a waiter). It was deemed most practical that Evelyn watch the children. With Lief in her lap and Beatrix sitting on the table, swinging her legs with boredom, they watched Cole and Maryden entertain the village.

Most did not notice the minstrels. Instead, they eyed them, and Evelyn and Cullen, waiting. News that an Inquisition reunion was taking place had attracted even the most anti-social of the village. Evelyn almost felt bad that they would be disappointed throughout the evening. Cole seemed eager to talk, but once the words began to spill out of his mouth, people tended to shy away. Cullen and Evelyn were never ones for recounting past victories. Perhaps Maryden could tell a story or two. If only Varric, or Bull had come. _That_ would've sated Eldham's taste for revelries.

Lief groaned and hugged himself to Evelyn's bosom. The noise frightened him no doubt. She rubbed his back and cooed at him, trying to soothe the boy.

"When will I get to hear a story?" Beatrix complained.

"Soon." Evelyn told her.

"But my bedtime is coming soon. They'll send me to sleep."

"I won't remind your mother if you won't." Evelyn shared a secret smile with the girl. They had come a long way from the first day, when Beatrix had hid from Evelyn in fear. Now, the girl's blue eyes were warm and happy when they saw her aunt.

"This. Is. Exhausting." Cullen came towards her a set a pint of ale by her. Beatrix reached for it, and Evelyn swatted the girl's hand away. "I can't imagine how Branson does this every day."

"It makes you appreciate him better."

Cullen nodded. "I believe Maryden is telling the story of Adamant Fortress after her song. I think we could probably…"

"Slip away so no one looks at us?" She supplied. "Agreed." They smiled at each other. Suddenly, a short, hooded figure approached them.

"Lady Trevelyan," It started.

"Can we help you find your parents, my child?" Cullen asked. The figure pulled back its hood and revealed itself to be Scout Harding. Cullen choked and tried to spit out an apology.

"Don't worry, Commander. It helps with going unnoticed." The dwarf smiled and Cullen relaxed. Harding looks well, her skin bright and her eyes sharp. Being groomed by Leliana as a spymaster had served her well.

"Harding, why are you here?" Evelyn asked.

"Leliana sent me to deliver some letters for you."

"Why didn't she send a raven?"

"She wanted to make sure they got to you." Harding's smile tightened and Evelyn took the sign as one for privacy. She handed Lief to Beatrix and guided Cullen and Harding upstairs as Maryden began telling the tale of how the Inquisition forces stopped the Warden blood mages. Evelyn was glad she didn't have to hear it.

In their quarters, Cullen pulled out a chair for Harding to sit. She did, and pulled out two bundles of letters bound in leather string.

"Maker's breath!" Cullen exclaimed. "How many letters are there?"

"Maybe about 8 each, give or take." Harding took a moment to rub her feet through her boots. "Do you have any water?"

Evelyn poured her a glass and brought it over. As Harding pulped the drink down, Evelyn asked, "How have things been with us gone?"

"Honestly- fine. Leliana and Cassandra and Josephine are handling the logistics much better than either of you could. No offense, of course." Cullen and Evelyn exchanged a glance and shrugged. She was right, of course. "But the letters aren't just from them. They're from all over. There's news from everyone."

"How long do you intend to stay?" Cullen asked.

"I'll leave tomorrow. Right now, I need a drink, a meal, and a nice bed. Goodnight, Lady Inquisitor. Lord Commander." She gave a small bow and left without flourish.

"I have to say- I don't miss people bowing to us." Cullen mused.

"I concur." Evelyn reached for the piles of letter and handed Cullen the one marked for him. "Shall we begin?"


	13. A Flurry of Letters

_**I**_ **don't own Dragon Age.**

 _In a clear, square-like print on paper white as snow._

My Friend,

I trust that all is well in Eldham. How happy you must be now that you are away from the pomp and circumstance of Val Royeaux. Tying up the loose ends of the Exalted Council, working to transition the Inquisition into its new form- I admit, I will be glad when I can leave it behind me for a while.

I intend to take the remaining Seekers to the Hunterhorn Mountains. We must rebuild what we can. In all honesty, the Seekers must be reborn. I cannot allow the corruption of the past to destroy what is worth saving. And with the Templars all but gone, I will need a force to keep order and peace. And do good. Yes, that is what was forgotten through the years. Above all, they must do good.

I am rambling, yes. In the news of your title and the ownership of Skyhold, I have persuaded Empress Celene and King Alistair to recognize Skyhold as the property of the Chantry. As such, I have bequeathed it to you as headquarters of the Inquisition. While the Seekers rebuild, the Inquisition will serve the people. As for you title, I (meaning Josephine) have ordered the proper papers and favors to declare a House Trevelyan at Skyhold. However, they require approval of the current Lord Trevelyan and we have heard no new from Ostwick on the matter. Perhaps a letter from you would suffice.

I hope you find rejuvenation in Eldham, but I also hope you return soon. I confess to missing you dearly, my friend.

Cassandra

 _In angular script, bearing the mark of the Viscount of Kirkwall._

Commander Curly,

I hope you and the Inquisitor are making the most of your honeymoon. Maker knows you deserve it. Maybe she can teach you how to do that thing with your mouth you've done maybe twice- smile, that's the word.

Kirkwall is beginning to settle, thanks to yours truly. The city still isn't the same though. But it'll get there. I hope you come back to see it one day.

Anyway, the contraption you asked me to work on is proving more difficult than I thought. I'm not a smith, but one of my close friends has been tinkering with some prototypes. The problem is mobility and precision- if Evelyn is every going to work out in the field again, she'll need a prosthetic that can work as well as her real hand. My friend is still working on it- and trust me, she's the best smith you could get.

Best of luck,

Varric Tethras

 _Written in the loopy, extravagant handwriting of Dorian Pavus, in white ink on black paper._

Lady Inquisitor,

Well, I'm sure the wonders of Eldham have dazzled you into a stupor. I'm sure your mind is whirling from the goats and wheat and other pleasantries that the great Unwashed can offer you. I am in deep sorrow that I cannot experience the joys of the South Reach with you- someone must make up for the wine surplus in Tevinter.

Work in the magisterium goes slow. The allure of the disgraced Pavus heir has begun to wear off and I am beginning to discover the darker intentions of the magisters. Your name can still be heard being praised, but my spies tell me that Venatori sympathizers plot their revenge. I can't be sure what they're planning, but I will keep you updated.

Say hello to that strapping blonde of yours if you have time,

Magister Dorian Pavus of Minrathous

 _In the thin, curly print of Grand Enchanter Vivienne._

Knight-Commander Cullen,

My dear, I am thrilled to hear that you and the Inquisitor made it to Eldham safety. Despite the rather peaceful end of the Exalted Council, one can never be sure that all the parties will be satisfied. It is surprising that Celene didn't send an obligatory assassin or two after you, but c'est la vie.

I'll remind you of the conversation we had at the Winter Palace- I know you had much on your mind, but I urge you to consider your position. Without the Templars, the Chantry has no way to enforce Cassandra's edicts. You are the only Templar left with any legitimate claim to leadership. If Evelyn's position is threatened, the best you can do for her is provide a viable living.

Alas, the choice is yours, my dear. I pray you do what is right.

Madame de Fer

Grand Enchanter of the Circle of Magi

 _In the scrawl of Dagna. Along the margins, there are rude drawings featuring Sera, Dagna, Evelyn, and various other members of the Inquisition._

Inquisitor,

I hope you and Cullen are having fun in Eldham. I hear there are werewolves in the Brecillian Forest nearby- maybe you could go looking for them if you have spare time!

In lieu of the investigation you asked me to conduct, I admit I still have no answers. Grey Wardens become less and less fertile as the Blight remains in their system, but it's not uncommon for them to have children with non-Wardens. If the Anchor is akin to the Blight, then you are at the same level of exposure of a Warden that served two years. If this is the case, it's unlikely you'll ever have children. Of course, this is just conjecture- exposure to the Fade and the powers of the Anchor have never been studied. I've written to some Rift mages to see what effects their studies have had on them, but none have responded. I'm beginning to think Solas was the only one who could've known.

But I'll keep looking. Don't worry, Inquisitor. I'll find out something.

Dagna

 _In the simple, elegant script of Leliana, written in a cipher that takes Lady Trevelyan an hour and a half to crack. Commander Cullen did not even attempt._

Inquisitor,

I am sorry to disturb your honeymoon. I sent Harding only when it became clear that I needed to send you information. I'm afraid the others got a little carried away.

Reports are coming in across Thedas of the disappearance of elves from all walks of life- alienages, servants, and dalish. All of the spies that follow them don't return, so I have ended my efforts on that front. No one can say why they are leaving, but it is clear Solas is planning something.

Dorian is already making headway in Tevinter- which is to say, I've had to dismantle three assassination attempts this week (Dorian's own agents took care of two. I'm recommending he take on a new spymaster). His work is instrumental, though slow going. However, I have reports of Venatori agents still active in the Magisterium and in Ferelden. It seems they mean to exact revenge from you for destroying their chance at reviving the Imperium. Those I've managed to capture have told me little, and are killed in their cells when nobody's watching. From what I gathered, they still believe you to be in Val Royeaux. I will do my best to maintain this illusion for as long as I can. Still, remain vigilant. They will find you eventually, and bring down all their fury onto you.

The Nightingale

Evelyn rubbed her temples slowly, the candlelight dancing across her vision. It was midnight, at least, and Cullen was sound asleep, snoring like a monster. Dagna's letter occupied her mind, but Leliana's was the important one, truly. Evelyn wasn't sure Cullen and her were capable of holding off a Ventori assault on their own. Surely, Leliana could send troops to Eldham… _and lead the Venatori right to them_. Evelyn sighed and laid her head in her hands. She wouldn't sleep well tonight. She thought of waking Cullen and voicing her concerns, but when she looked over at her sleeping husband, almost a child with the peace of sleep around him, she couldn't bring herself to say anything.


	14. Harvestmere

**I don't own Dragon Age.**

 **I'm back, bitches.**

The next day was was the first day of Harvestmere and the house was in a blur. Apparently, it was tradition for Eldham to hold a bit of a festival in celebration of the harvest which involved dancing, drinking, games, singing, and apparently yelling, "Hooky, hooky."

Whilst all this made perfect sense to her in-laws, Evelyn could only baffle as she helped in the fields during the actual harvest, gleaning the scraps behind the men who cut at the wheat and barley vigorously. Everyone in the village helped, even the old Chantry sisters, who passed out water to the workers. Cole and Maryden played cheerful tunes, whose rhythms the men eventually swung their scythes to. Every once in awhile, Evelyn looked up, brushed the stray hairs from her face, and saw Cullen, glistening gold among the grain, hauling bushels of the harvest into awaiting carts. At the same moment, he would shield his eyes from the sun and scan the fields until his gaze landed on her. His hand would raise in greeting and, strangely, Evelyn thought it the most romantic thing he had ever done.

At night, when the air was chilled, Evelyn's fingers were so sore, her back ached so bad, and her face itched with sunburn that she could barely sleep. Cullen was much the same. It was odd, having a body so fit and able to fight demons and armies, yet tending a field like regular folk made them both so exhausted. Eventually, Evelyn learned how to braid her hair so as to keep it perfectly from her eyes, and she never left the house without a sturdy hat. Cullen's blisters began to fade and new, tougher calluses grew in their place. One night, as they both collapsed into bed, Evelyn laughed out loud.

"What's so funny?" Cullen asked.

"We're farmers now." She grinned. They chuckled and curled up against each other before falling fast asleep.

The next day was the final day of the harvest, and the day of the festival. The men worked, but the women stayed in town and prepared the party. In the lawn in front of the Chantry, huge wooden tables were covered with white tablecloths and laden with food. Evelyn helped the children tie corn husk dolls together and looped them around the Chantry's gothic architecture. Lanterns were hung around the yard. Everyone was dressed in their finest clothes- except Mia. Despite her and Evelyn's best work, Mia could only fit into a plain brown dress with simple red embroidery.

"I'm going to wring that healer's neck." Mia murmured as Evelyn loosely laced up her dress. "I was told this baby would be out two weeks ago."

Despite Evelyn's assurance, Mia surely felt plain compared to Rosalie. She dressed in the softest green frock Evelyn had ever seen, with azaleas wreathed in her blonde tresses. Beatrix had whispered to Evelyn that Rosalie was trying to get engaged- to whom it did not matter, so long as she married well and _soon_. The forerunner of this competition was Eustace Goode, a fairly handsome fellow with a long face and fidgety hands. He was the town baker, which apparently was a lucrative business since he was one of the wealthiest of the townspeople.

Evelyn herself dressed in a muted silver gown with a white shawl. She thought it plain enough to keep attention away from her, but still, even after all these weeks, people stared.

Late in the afternoon, a horn was blasted in the distance. The women all clapped and hovered around each other, waiting for the men. Eventually, a great procession of workers surrounding a cart filled with wheat came up the country road. The horse pulling the cart was almost lost under the coat of flowers they placed over his neck. A man, dressed ridiculously lavish, stood atop the cart like a king, with the others singing a drunken diddy as the cart plodded along. It seemed the men didn't mind drinking _as soon_ as the harvest was over. Evelyn spotted Cullen, close to the cart with eyes wide with overwhelming panic. Evelyn couldn't help but giggle at the sight. Like a child lost in a marketplace…

The men managed to carry the clownish king- Evelyn gathered he was some sort of King of the Harvest, some pig farmer with a name like McGeanius- and the full chaos erupted. Women grabbed their husbands and danced furiously to the sound of Maryden's songs. Children chased each other between crowds. Men drank themselves blind and ate more than their weight before vomiting it back up past the glow of the lanterns. Evelyn pushed through cluster after cluster, trying to find Cullen. As she squeezed her hand between two prodigiously fat people, another hand took hers on the other side. She was pulled through the two of them and into the arms of her husband, his face sweaty and his eyes relieved.

"Thank the Maker and Andraste and everyone else in the world." Cullen embraced her. "This is worst than the Winter Palace."

"Do you think?"

"At least there, people had a filter of what to say and what not. Here-"

"H _eeyy!"_ A wrinkled old man ran into them and glared, stinking of beer. "If you're tryin' to toss each other off, do it in the woods! Not here, where civilized folk are walkin'!" The man stumbled off and Cullen groaned.

"It has a certain charm, you must admit." She murmured into his ears. A pack of children ran past her, picking up her skirts in the breeze. Maryden's song had a pluckiness to it, so Evelyn slipped her hand into Cullen's and led him to the edge of the yard, where the lantern's light just began to dim.

"What-"

"Dance with me," She said simply. There was hesitation that broke into bliss in her husband's eyes as he placed his hand on her waist. They moved in a tight, small circle, their footsteps measured and unsure. Cullen could barely look up at from his feet. Compared to the fleet footed dance of the villagers, the couple were moving at the pace of a glacier. But eventually, Maryden played a soft ballad and Cullen and Evelyn's pace suited that of the crowd. Evelyn leaned her head against the chest of her husband, hearing his chest beat through hist shirt.

"How was the last harvest?" She asked.

"Strangely satisfying. The swinging of a scythe is not that different from a sword- and it's good to have to work so hard all day. Reminds me when I was just a Templar, not a Commander." Cullen stroked her hair. "How was working with the women?"

"The same, truly." Evelyn looked up at him and smiled. "I've never done things like this. Planning a party, setting a table, making… _Decorations_. It feels like…"

"Like what?"

"Like what real people do." She looked over the crowd, swaying to the rhythm of the ballad. "For once in my life, I feel like a real person. Not a lord's daughter or a mage or a fugitive or an Inquisitor. A real person. Doing real things with my hands and it feels…" She couldn't say and looked back at her husband.

"I don't think I understand." He answered, probably honestly.

"Neither do I." She smiled softly. "But kiss me while I'm happy."

Cullen didn't hesitate, and when their lips met, Evelyn tasted the sweat and salt of the day overlaying the sweetness of his mouth. His hands pulled at the small of her back, smashing their bodies together. She touched his roughened cheek, feeling the beard of the past weeks, feeling his scar over his lip. She almost didn't feel Mia's hand on her shoulder.

She pulled form Cullen quickly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Mia blushed like a Chantry sister. Terrin stood behind her, stoic as always.

"I'm sorry to disturb, I…" She smiled awkwardly. "Well, I'm off to bed. My ankles are swollen and I can't drink, so there's no point to me staying. Branson is still here, and will probably be drunk as a dog, but don't worry. _Someone_ will take him home. Helena is home with the baby and I told Beatrix she could stay till 10. But if you could watch out for Rosalie-"

"Where is she?" Cullen asked.

"She'll stay for the Burning." Mia said simply. "Oh- oh, right, you don't know. The teenagers every year like to burn the stubble left in the fields. It's idiotic, but it keeps them out of trouble. I hate to impose but-"

"We'll wait for her." Evelyn said. "Don't worry. She'll get home safe. And so will Beatrix. Now go and sleep."

"You are sent from Andraste." Mia kissed Evelyn's cheek and waddled away a few steps before turning around and yelling, "Wait, I just realized- you actually _were!_ Ha! Terrin, did you hear what I said?" The two eventually walked out into the darkness.

"Where's Alistair?" Cullen asked. "He normally follows me out into the fields, but I lost him once we came back."

"I think…" Evelyn scanned the crowd before pointing to the far corner of the yard. "There he is." The fearsome war hound was decked in a corn husk crown and was giving rides to the children in a pony cart, supervised by a cautious Beatrix. Al trotted pleasantly, like a great show horse.

"That mutt…" Cullen shook his head in disappointment.

"I think he's rather pleased with himself, don't you?" Before Cullen could answer, they heard loud hoots and hollers in the distance. Deep in the darkness, orange light was born in the distance.

"I guess that they've started burning the stubble." Evelyn slipped her hand into Cullen's. "Come- let's get a drink." Together, they walked to one of the long tables, where food was strewn across the surface. They managed to find a bowl of punch and two glasses and Cullen poured some out for them. Evelyn sipped at the watered down rum, almost gagging at the flavor. She set her cup down as she watched Cullen down his.

"A little eager?" She asked.

"My nerves are on fire." He explained. "I've earned it." He sighed and asked, "What news came with your letters?"

"Oh, this and that." Evelyn dismissed. "News from Tevinter and Val Royeaux. Leliana sends the most urgent- apparently Venatori agents are tracking us down."

"Yes, she told me the same." Cullen examined the crowd. "I was thinking of going scouting tomorrow- make sure the area is clear."

"I'll come with you."

"You don't need to-"

"I _will_." Evelyn said firmly. Cullen opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it.

"Someone is watching." Cole's voice came like a whisper but made both of them jump nonetheless.

"Maker's breath, Cole!" Cullen scolded. "Why are you-"

"The songs are whispering, a pack. Fangs." Cole shivered.

"What do you mean, Cole?" Evelyn laid a hand on his shoulder. The boy turned away and his eyes went glassy.

"They're going to scream."

"Wha-"

"Look over there!" Cullen cut her off, pointing to the stubble burning. The flames that had once been small and low had lept up to the trees and were spreading dangerously quick on the dry autumnal leaves. Evelyn gasped. Men began racing to the flames, while women gathered their children and rushed home.

"Oh no… Mother." Cullen looked at Evelyn with panic in his eyes. Evelyn considered the flames again. The darkness made them seem much more distant than they truly were. As the fire spread to the woods, it was not inconceivable that they would consume the old woman's hut.

"Go, Cullen!" She pushed her husband to the flames and he stumbled to follow the rest of the men. "Cole, get Maryden and get to safety."

"They're in the woods!" The boy shouted but he ran anyway. Gathering her skirts in her hand, Evelyn raced off to find Beatrix in the writhing crowd of shrieking people. Pushing past a woman clutching a baby, she saw Beatrix desperately holding onto the rope collar of Al.

"Beatrix!" Evelyn collapsed to her knees and held the girl close to her. "Are you alright?"

"What's going on?" She asked.

"Listen, I need you…" Evelyn looked over her shoulder. The flame was growing so fast, quicker than anything she'd ever seen. _Perhaps the woods are very dry_ , she thought. The men would never get it under control, not alone. "Beatrix, I need you to go back to the inn, go to my room, and get my staff."

"What?"

"My staff. A long stick with a jewel on the top. It's in the wardrobe, towards the back. You must get it quick as you can!" Beatrix still stood, confused and scared, staring at the flames in the distance. "Beatrix! Go!" And off the girl ran, her dress trailing behind her like a leaf. Alistair gave Evelyn a look before racing off after Beatrix.

Turning to face the flame, Evelyn gathered her skirts once more and ran for the blurry outlines of men against the orange frenzy. As she got closer, she could smell the acidic smoke and hear the cackle and, just barely, the shouts of men. She saw them attempting to kick dirt and dust over the flames, putting them out. But the fire had spread too quickly, too powerfully. Dust was not going to kill it.

Without her staff, Evelyn's magic could not be concentrated. But it was still there. She threw out her hand and suddenly, a blizzard was born over the edge of the fire. The men looked up in shock and some stumbled back in fear, but Evelyn kept her hand extended, focusing on the heart of the storm. The intense heat of the flame made her face burn, and the smoke made her cough at every breath. She tried her best to focus on the storm, but the swirling furnace of smoke and sparks blew the clouds away quickly.

Sighing in frustration, Evelyn helped up some of the men who had fallen. The surrounding grass was covered in frost and crunched beneath her feet.

"Go around the other side! I'll go this way!" She shoved the man over to her right, where he stumbled back to the ground. " _Go_!" She screamed. He shot up and ran, yelling to the others to follow him. Evelyn couldn't see Cullen, but knew he would follow the men, no matter how much he wanted to come for her.

"Aunt Evelyn!" Evelyn turned around and saw Beatrix, tripping over her skirt as she clutched her aunt's staff to her chest. Evelyn held out her arms and grabbed the staff as quickly as she could.

"Get back to the house!" She yelled, running into the forest, not waiting to see if she was obeyed.

The air was thick with smoke, making the night thicker, realer. To her right, she could hear the crackle of the inferno, and the red glow turned everything ghastly. Evelyn tried her best to cover her nose and mouth while carrying her staff and running, but it tooks too much concentration. When a flaming branch came down in front of her, she was almost crushed beneath it before she jumped out of its way. With a swing of her staff, the branch erupted with ice.

Looking towards the flames, Evelyn could feel the heat on her face. The light stung her eyes and she held up her hand to protect her face, coughing into her arm. As hard as she could, she pound her staff into the ground. Blue light flooded from the crystal utop it and about 10 feet in front of her, a wall of ice erupted from the ground and separated her from the flames. Underneath the sound of crackle and crashing fire, Evelyn could hear the high pitched squeal of melting ice.

 _At least it'll slow it down_ , she thought as she ran off deeper into the woods. In the dark, she could hardly make out the trees, let alone, try to find her way to the hut in the woods. Evelyn followed the curve of the forest fire, waiting to stumble along the path. When her boots skitted across bare earth and stone instead of undergrowth, she turned on a dime and ran from the fire, her lungs heaving from the effort. Now, she was outracing fire. And she could feel it lick at her heels like hounds. _Strange_ , she thought in some small part of her mind. Strange that the fire seemed headed in one, certain direction. Like it was led on a leash, eager to burn her to a crisp.

Suddenly, Evelyn burst from the trees and stumbled into the clearing of Beatrix Rutherford's hut. Without pausing, she ran to the door, banging her fist against the rickety wood.

"Mrs. Rutherford!" She screamed. "Beatrix, you must come down! You're in danger, there's a fire in the woods!" Evelyn turned to look at the fire and saw it was upon them. The glint of the fire reflected strangely off the trees, glistening wetly on the bark. The heat was searing and the tongues of flame reached out and danced along the clearing. It was surely just the fear and adrenaline, but Evelyn saw wolves where there should be flame- burning wolves that howled and cackled and circled around her. Her dress turned black in the surrounded flames and Evelyn beat her fist against the burning fabric. Her head was dizzy with the smell of smoke and tears ran down her cheeks, her eyes stinging.

Swallowing her fear, Evelyn raised her staff to the sky and waved it to the heavens. Heavy, dark clouds began to form above her head. With a final thrust of her staff, a shot of blue light flew into the storm and rain began pouring down on the clearing. The sizzle of fire on water filled the air. But the rain persisted and eventually, the flames died down. The stink of wet ash took it's place. Evelyn's heart soared, but she raised her staff again, concentrating her magic on the heart of the baby storm cloud.

The tempest swirled and slowly grew and grew, until it could stand on its own without help of magic. Soon, rain poured down all over the burning forest. Evelyn let out a sigh of relief, leaning into her staff as it sunk into the wet earth.

"Evelyn!" She heard Cullen's voice call her name and her face broke out in a relieved smile. As she turned to search the surrounding woods for her husband, a shriek covered Cullen's calls. The scream came from so close, Evelyn's ears rang.

Before she could react, her shoulder erupted into flames of pain. Evelyn screamed and fell to her knees, dropping her staff and reaching back to find the source. Her hand felt hot and wet. A hard slap hit the back of her head and Evelyn tumbled to the ground. Her vision went blurry and all she could see was a figure in white standing over her, screaming like a banshee. That was the last thing she saw before she fell into darkness.


	15. Memory

**I don't own Dragon Age.**

 **Please review, people. It makes my heart happy and my fingers type** _ **.**_

9:37 DRAGON, The Ostwick Circle

Evelyn Trevelyan sipped at her broth quietly, looking down into her wooden bowl. Beside her, Natalie angrily chewed on her bread, grunting and growling into the crude wheat roll.

"They know," Natalie grumbled. "Look at their smug faces. They're laughing at me."

She was referring to the Templars that stood watch along the dining room hall. There were maybe 25, each staring stoically into the eyes of the Templar across from them. Once upon a time, Lydia, the First Enchanter, would've insisted they eat with the mages, but that was long ago, before Evelyn passed her Harrowing. Now, the Templars just watched. She hadn't heard one speak to a mage in 7 years.

Evelyn looked up at the Templars. They didn't look particularly mocking, but Evelyn didn't say so, knowing it would just anger Natalie more.

Evelyn liked to believe that her friend has some actual insight into the workings of the Circle, but realistically, she understood that Natalie was just an angry girl. Abandoned on the footsteps of the Ostwick Chantry, she ran away and lived on the streets when she was six. She lived on the streets for four years with other runaways until her magic made itself known. Her companions were so terrified that they reported her to the Templars and she was taken to the Circle immediately. The years of anger were written clearly on her square, small face. Evelyn was friends by association- she had come to the Circle the same year as Natalie, and her shyness was taken as dimwittedness by the other apprentices. Natalie liked Evelyn because she could use her as a mute sound board- Natalie could complain as much as she wanted and Evelyn would take it.

"Lydia is eyeing you," Vagan leaned over the table and whispered to Natalie. Quickly, she shut up and eyed the aged First Enchanter at the end of the table. Vagan grinned at Evelyn, who managed to smile back. Vagan was one of the few elves in the Circle. He was very sweet, if a little spacey. Evelyn suspected he had a crush on her, but she never brought it so as to not embarrass him.

Evelyn looked down the table at Lydia. The old mage was frowning at a particular brussel sprout. Evelyn half expected her to scold it for not being more tempting. She smiled and looked back to her own plate. She had been Lydia's stewardess for a few years now, after having served as her apprentice. The crotchety old lady was a dear friend to Evelyn, even if she could be a bit _acerbic_ at times.

After a while, Lydia rose and the entire hall rose with her. She cleared her throat and spoke in her quavering tones. "I will be retiring early tonight, but I won't ask all of you to do the same. Please, keep your voices down. My hearing isn't sharp, but I can still make out the sounds of an army trampling through my Circle." She playfully glared at the apprentices, who shook in fear in their seats, before she hobbled out of the hall. After a moment, Evelyn laid her napkin on the table and hurried after her.

Lydia's chambers were in the Western tower of the Circle. With tall windows and bookcases on every wall, the room had aged alongside its resident. Once bright and gleaming marble, it was dusty and dark now, yet still, somehow, comforting.

Lydia was already getting ready for the night when Evelyn came in. She was struggling to remove a ring from her own, knobby finger. Evelyn came to her and gently pried the ring from her hand, laying it on her boudoir.

"Maya will be ready for her Harrowing tomorrow." Lydia said. "I let West know before dinner- he barely spoke throughout dinner, thank the Maker."

Evelyn took the emerald necklace from Lydia's neck and slipped it into the drawer before fetching a silk white nightgown. She helped Lydia out of her robes and into the gown before Evelyn unpinned Lydia's silver hair and began braiding it. "I think the girl will do splendidly," Lydia mused. "I dearly hope so. Since West lost his last apprentice, he hasn't been the same."

Evelyn murmured her agreement but said nothing. She'd learned long ago that Lydia did not keep those close to her who were constantly trying to launder out their own opinions. Evelyn lasted as long as she did because she knew that words were currency- and she was not about to spend it all at once.

"You may go," Lydia dismissed her after her braid was complete. Evelyn bowed slightly and turned to leave. "Evelyn." She stopped and looked back at the first enchanter, her face suddenly ten years older. "Could you make sure Natalie doesn't stir them all up again?"

Evelyn smiled and nodded. Satisfied, Lydia waved her hand, sending her away. As Evelyn made her way back to the mage's quarters, she thought about her mentor's orders. Natalie was notoriously reactionary, and the news of the unrest in Kirkwall was just fuel to her fury. Natalie was choking under the weight of the Circle, of the Templars. She had been here for all her adult life, yet she could only spit and sneer at the walls around her.

Evelyn made her way into the common room. Almost half the Circle was there, sitting in a tight huddle on plush, red velvet couches. Only three templars stood watch. Evelyn made her way quietly and sat on the edge of the circle, listening to Natalie's rant. Vagan looked up at her as she sat and smiled.

"I hear war is going to break out in Kirkwall, the mages are being treated so badly," Natalie whispered. "The Champion has been trying to help, but it won't be long before something happens."

As Natalie monologued, Evelyn let her mind wander and glanced at the Templars stationed around the room. One was a young man, with gray eyes, brown hair, and a wispy beard. He was handsome enough, and had started in the Circle right after her Harrowing as a boy. She had never spoken to him, but somehow she felt like they knew each other. He looked at her and a shadow of a smile played across his lips. Maybe she imagined it, but she thought she saw him nod in greeting. Evelyn smiled to herself and looked down at her hands, content with her secret.

"You sounds like you _want_ war to start." Astrid Averrt, the youngest senior enchanter at the Circle at age 37, said. Her white blonde hair was braided down to her waist and elegantly hung across her shoulder. "Tensions have been high, yes, but the Champion will bring peace, I'm sure."

"Even before Kirkwall, war was bound to start." Natalie growled. "And we have to do something here. We can help mages across Thedas if-"

"If we revolt?" Astrid spat back. "All you'll end up with is a Circle of dead mages if we-"

"West," Evelyn interjected. "I hear Maya is ready for her Harrowing."

She leaned over and laid a hand on the old enchanter's hand. He looked up and smiled, his face wrinkling. His bald head gleamed in the dim light with sweat. "Thank you, Evelyn. I hope she does well."

"I'm sure she will." She said with a smile.

"The Harrowing is just another chain the Chantry lays on us," Natalie grumbled.

"It's a test we all needed to pass." Astrid countered.

"And what about the boys and girls who don't pass? What about the children who are slaughtered?" Natalie's voice was hushed but that didn't hide her anger. "What about the _Tranquil_?"

"Well, I certainly am tired!" Evelyn exclaimed, louder than she intended. The Templars stared at her as she laughed too loudly and used her hands too much. "Lydia had me writing for her all day! It's amazing I can still use my fingers. I think we should all head to bed." With that she rose and helped West do the same. Astrid got up and strode out of the room, her nose in the air. Vagan and a few others slowly rose and drifted off to their rooms. Natalie sat and glared off at Astrid, with the rest of the Circle watching her. Slowly, she stood and, with the others, went off to the mage quarters.

As Lydia's stewardess, Evelyn had a small room by Lydia's chamber. She made her way down the dark corridor into her room, which was basically a glorified broom closet. She had freedom to personalize it, but Evelyn never knew what she would've done. She had no possessions of her own, no letters from home to pin on the wall. It was the exact same since the day she moved in- a plain bed and a simple wood dresser. Her staff, just as plain and unadorned, leaned against the dresser. The steward's room doubled as a rookery- though they had no ravens at the moment. The empty cages hung ominously in the rafters.

After dressing down to a simple cotton nightgown and plaiting her hair, Evelyn sat on the bed, which creaked noisily under her weight. A plain window hung over her bed, facing the eastern sky. Evelyn leaned on the window sill and pressed her forehead against the glass. Dreams of freedom seemed a bit cliche. What would she see out there that was so special? She had no one, she was no one. She had no ambition outside the Circle. One day, Lydia would die and Evelyn was bound to replace her. Even that position of power seemed daunting. Maybe she would give it to Vagan- he was more outgoing. Or Astrid- she had a good head on her shoulders. Natalie wasn't an option, she would likely start her career off with tearing the Circle down brick by brick. Evelyn laughed at the idea.

 _You're not First Enchanter yet_ , she told herself. And she wasn't likely to be any time soon. She didn't want the power, didn't want to prestige. What she remembered of her life as a lady was suffocation and inspection beyond belief. She couldn't be scrutinized like that again. And besides, she didn't have the strength to lead anyone or anything.

Evelyn laid down and pushed those thoughts from her head. Under the thick cotton blanket, she felt warm as a summer day. Nothing exciting had happened to her in many years, and there wasn't anything on the horizon that would be more than she could handle. She closed her eyes and slept a dreamless sleep.

Evelyn woke up slowly, aware of the burns on her arms and legs. Her shoulder radiated pain. She was also aware of a gentle hand, pressing a cool cloth against her forehead. It was Cullen. She smiled weakly at her husband. His eyes were deep and sad with concern, but they lit up when he saw that she was awake.

"My love." He whispered, taking her hand in his free hand. "I'm… So happy you're alright."

"What happened?" She asked, her voice hoarse and painful.

"Mother stabbed you. Thank the Maker she was so weak- it was a light cut, and it missed any major organ." Cullen smiled weakly. "You're still with us."

"Is Beatrix okay?"

"She is fine- the hut is destroyed, but she's with the sisters in the Chantry. She's fine, Evie." Despite the pain, Evelyn shivered with pleasure at the sound of 'Evie' on her husband's tongue.

"What about Rosalie and the teenagers?" She asked.

"We got them out alright- only a few burns between them. Branson's furious- he wanted to horsewhip her. I almost agree with him. Rosie insists there were… _Magic wolves_ in the forest." He sighed. "I think they were drinking, which can only be expected."

Evelyn nodded, exhausted. She closed her eyes, but all she could see were the flames and Beatrix. Then, Beatrix was Lydia and Evelyn's eyes leapt open.

Cullen laid the wet rag down and stroke her cheek. His hand was gentle and rough against her skin. "What's wrong?"

Evelyn bit her lip, bringing tears to her eyes. "If I tell you… Promise you won't find me despicable."

"Nothing could ever make me think that." He assured her.

Evelyn turn her head and stare at the wall. She couldn't face him, no matter how much she loved him. "How much do you know about the Ostwick Circle?"

After a pause, Cullen said, "Not much, to be honest. I know it- _you_ , I mean- revolted almost immediately after Kirkwall. I didn't register it much, the city was in such chaos, but… I gathered that it was a massacre. Nearly everyone died."

"Nearly." She murmured. "Why did you never ask me about it?"

"I-" He sighed. "I didn't want to hurt you unnecessarily. I thought… If it was important… Surely, you would speak of it on your own accord."

Well, she couldn't hold that against him. She licked her lips and said, "The Circle was the only home I had truly known. I was content there- not happy, but at peace. I saw stewardess to the First Enchanter, Lydia. I had… What I could only call 'friends'. One of these friends, her name was Natalie. She had… So much anger in her. Like a fire that never went out."

Cullen slipped his hand into hers and she almost pulled away. But his touch centered her, grounded her. Her past was not her future. "The night of the Kirkwall Rebellion, a raven came to Ostwick well after midnight, with an urgent message. She summoned the Circle and announced that- that the Kirkwall Chantry was destroyed, that the city was in chaos and… That the Right of Annulment was enacted." Evelyn glanced at Cullen and saw his own eyes clouded with grief. She realized that her past was intertwined with his, as well as their futures. It comforted her.

"Natalie was furious. She had been speaking about the oppression of mages and the suffocation of the Chantry for years. And now… She had ammunition." Evelyn looked up to the ceiling, feeling tears building. "What was funny was… People listened. The other mages and enchanters- they listened. And they agreed. And those who didn't… Did nothing. _I_ … I didn't know what to think. Lydia was furious at Natalie, she was screaming so loud…" Evelyn felt the first tear slide down her face. "In the middle of the night, with the help of the other mages, Natalie broke into the Templar quarters and began her slaughter."

"Maker's breath." Cullen murmured. "And they didn't defend themselves?"

"They didn't have time," She explained. "Or else, they didn't want to kill them. They didn't know about Kirkwall, they couldn't have guessed war had begun… Lydia and I… We tried to reason with Natalie. But she wouldn't listen. The fighting was so intense. I… I tried to save the apprentices, the little ones. But, before I could get there… The castle caught aflame. Everything was burning. The apprentices, they had frozen their door shut, trying to keep the Templars out, but now… They were trapped. Some tried to jump from the window but... the tower, it was… It was so high…" Evelyn painfully wiped her tears away.

"In the fire, Lydia was getting weaker and weaker. I tried to get her out, but Natalie stopped us. She begged us to join. She wouldn't let us leave. Lydia… She sacrificed herself, stay and dueling with Natalie. She made me go. She told me to run. And I did. I ran." Evelyn decided to let the tears come as they may. "I had never seen death before, I had never fought before. But that night, I was brutally woken from my bed and forced to kill people who watched over me. Who were my friends. I had never seen so much… Death. Heard so much screaming. When I got onto the street, I ran. I ran and I didn't stop until my feet bled." Evelyn's throat began to close with sorrow, but she gasped through the pain. "Everyone from the Circle died. One way or another. I heard Natalie joined the Venatori, for sheer spite, I suppose. Some of the Templar, no doubt, we killed at Haven or Adamant. But the children. The innocent mages… All gone… I was a coward, I had never known leadership or courage or strength. I had only known…. I had only..." Evelyn looked to Cullen, whose face was stone. "Please… Please, Cullen. Don't hate me."

Cullen's face was still, but his eyes were wet and streaming. "Oh, my love," He whispered. "I could never hate you." He leaned in and kiss her cheek, wiping the tears away with his hand. "Don't hide this from me, Evie. Your sorrow only makes me love you more." He pulled away and smiled sweetly. "You are not a coward, my love. You were a girl. You were scared. You are _not_ a coward."

Evelyn could've argued, but her weeping began realer and realer and she couldn't hold it back anymore. Gently, minding her wounds, Cullen picked her up and clutched her to his chest until the small hours of dawn.


	16. A Bare Forest

**I don't own Dragon Age**

Cullen took a small sip of his ale. The taste was almost sour, but Cullen swallowed anyway. Branson sat across from him with Helena by his side, both staring into their bowls of porridge. Evelyn sat next to Cullen, but she simply swirled a wooden spoon through the thick porridge. It had been a few days since the fire, and the village was still reeling. The air stank of ash and every day, farmers went out to clear out the dead trees from the forest, expanding the fields. In a way, the fire was a blessing, but no one would say that outloud.

"How's Mia?" Cullen asked.

"Just some pain in her stomach," Helena said. "I'm sure the stress of the fire didn't help her relax- she'll be fine."

"And Rosalie?"

"A few burns. She'll stay in bed for a few days." Helena's mouth tightened. "I'll have to do all the work around the inn for that time, I suppose."

Evelyn tensed beside Cullen. He knew she hated to be useless- and Helena did not mind making her feel that way.

"I think I might go for a ride today." Cullen suddenly announced. Helena gave him a judging look, but he ignored her. "Evelyn," He turned to her. "Would you come with me?"

She gave him a startled look, not saying anything. Cullen willed her to agree- maybe if she just got out of the house, out from under the withering gaze of Helena. She didn't say anything, but nodded and looked down at her plate. Cullen smiled to himself and ate in silence, refusing to look at his brother's critical gaze.

After breakfast, Cullen threw on a coat and went to the stables. He found their mounts- his chestnut stallion and Evelyn's palomino mare- pawing nervously at their stables as he entered, no doubt bored with their provincial surroundings. Cullen placed a hand on his stallion's snout and smiled softly at him.

"You ready?" Cullen turned and saw Evelyn, struggling to tie a pale blue cloak to her neck. He moved to help her, but she jerked back. Their eyes met and after a tense moment, Evelyn stepped closer and allowed Cullen to tie the cloak in a neat not at her throat.

Stepping back, he surveyed his bride- simple brown trousers and blouse with a light leather breastplate. Sturdy boot. The blue cloak. And her staff on her back.

"Do you think we'll need our weapons?" He asked her.

"It's better safe than sorry." She said, moving to her mare. She gave him a small smile. "You seem to think we do." She eyed the simple broadsword at his side that Terrin had lent him. Cullen smiled and opened the stable door and began preparing his mount for the ride.

Evelyn stroked her mare's neck gently. "Hello, Madrigold."

"You named your horse 'Madrigold'?" He asked.

"Yes, and yours is Eladio." She said simply, tightening the strap of her saddle and pulling herself atop the aforementioned mare. The two ladies trotted out and Cullen could only follow dutifully.

The town was quiet as they left to the woods. The trees, bare from the weather and the fire, shook hauntingly in the breeze. Despite himself, Cullen gripped his reins tighter. He looked over at Evelyn. She was watching the soot and ash kicked up by their horses, swirling in the light like ghosts.

"The forest is destroyed." Cullen murmured.

"It'll be a beautiful spring, though." Evelyn said. Suddenly, she pulled her reins tight, bringing her horse to a stop and jumped to the ground, the earth crunching beneath her feet.

"What is it?" He asked, but Evelyn said nothing, just walked through the trees slowly. Cullen stopped Eladio and followed her on foot. The wind whistled through the trees eerily. He took long steps, catching up to his wife quickly, and almost reached for her hand in comfort. Silly.

"The fire spread so quickly," She murmured, half to herself. "I had wondered if it was helped but…"

"It was just some teenagers." Cullen assured her. "But…" The fire _had_ moved faster than any of the men could keep up with. And after a while, it just… Died. Maybe Evelyn was onto something.

About 50 feet from their horses, Evelyn came to an ash-covered stone in a small clearing. The stone was oddly shaped, sometimes square and sometimes smooth. Evelyn kicked it and the ash fell away, revealing burnt wood and fabric. Cullen knelt and searched through the scorched remains. A few potions, the leftovers of a tent, a dagger, and a few maps that were buried deep under the trash to keep them safe from the flames. They were simple- showing the surrounding forest around Eldham.

"What do you think?" Cullen asked Evelyn, holding the dagger to her. She took it and examined the blade and hilt closely. She didn't say anything, so Cullen tried to find some other clue from the remains. The tent was burned beyond recognition, and the potions were just empty bottles. Cullen stood and brushed the ash from his clothes.

"Venatori." Evelyn finally said, gripping the hilt in her hand until her knuckles went white.

"How do you know?"

"Look at the hilt." Evelyn handed the blade to him. The hilt was bronze, engraved with swirling vipers. The end of the hilt had a square cut emerald, dusty with ash but deep green as poison. Cullen looked up to Evelyn expectantly. "Dorian brought a dagger like that to the Exalted Council- a gift for Cole." She pinched the bridge of her nose, breathing deep.

"Do you think they caused the fire?" Cullen asked.

"Why would they burn their own tent then?"

"To throw us off their trail." Cullen decided.

"Maybe." She brushed her hair from her face. "But the Venatori is almost dead- why would they waste resources like that?"

"So who else?" Cullen asked. Evelyn had no answer, just a look of fear and suspicion on her face.

"Wolves in the flame…" She muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing." She quickly said, putting on a smile that was as lovely as it was fake. She laid a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, by the way. For getting me out of the house."

"I just wanted to see you happy." He said, and was instantly embarrassed that he said that. But Evelyn smiled and she leaned in and kiss him gently. She tasted like ash but underneath, the taste of Evelyn was there and it was sweet on Cullen's tongue. His hands ran up and down her back, pulling her into him. Her hand stroked his cheek, ran across his neck, and down his chest and-

"Evelyn!" Cullen pulled back from her, blushing furiously.

She smiled wickedly and turned around, walking towards her horse. Cullen almost stopped her: _Well, don't start something and not finish it_. Then, following her, he prayed that Andraste could forgive him.

As they rode back to the inn, the silence no longer seemed eerie and it just felt comfortable. Just the snorts of their horses and it all seemed perfect. Even the bare trees seemed beautiful, somehow. Evelyn turned back and looked at him, her auburn hair hazy around her face like a halo. Her face glowed with a smile and Cullen's heart soared. She urged her horse into a gallop and Cullen chased after her, the wind rushing through his hair and making his eyes water. He could feel the strength of his horse beneath him, the muscle behind each racing stride, but all he could watch was the blue blur of Evelyn's cloak, trailing behind her like a waterfall.

They got to the inn breathless and wind tossed, their hair a mess and their eyes streaming. Both horses, happy with their exercise, went into their stables and Cullen and Evelyn walked back inside, holding hands like school children.

Inside, Branson and Terrin sat hunched over one of the tables with jugs in front of them, the children sitting nearby. The air was thick with tension.

"Where have you been?" Branson shouted, apparently louder than he expected because he paled with embarrassment and looked up the stairs.

"What's the matter?" Cullen asked.

"Mia went into labour a few hours ago," Terrin said calmly. Though his voice was calm, his eyes were bright with anxiety as he grabbed his jug and took a gulp of ale. Evelyn ripped off her cloak, shoving it into Cullen's arms, and ran up the stairs.

"Is everything alright?" Cullen asked, worriedly. Branson shrugged, and Terrin could only stare up the stairs. "Don't worry," Cullen sat next to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure Mia will be fine."

But as Cullen spoke, he heard Evelyn open a door upstairs and a blood-curdling scream came shooting down the hallway. The children look up from their play, suddenly frightened. Cullen didn't blame them.


	17. A Birth and A Prayer

**I don't own Dragon Age**.

"Just breath," Evelyn murmured to Mia, pressing a damp cloth to her forehead. "You're doing splendidly."

This lie came easily for Evelyn, as her sister-in-law screamed once more, a contraction rippling through her body. Helena held one of her legs as Rosalie held the other. One of the Chantry sisters crouched in between them- Mother Adoration, Evelyn believed. Her wrinkled face would peer up from Mia's huge belly every few seconds and smile in what Evelyn assumed was supposed to be a comforting way, and then resume her post between Mia's legs.

"Andraste, preserve me." Mia groaned, sweat trickling down her face and neck. "Save me and get this goddamn baby out of me!"

"I don't think that's helping." Evelyn muttered. She had been by Mia's side for an hour or so now, and the birth hadn't progressed at all.

"What's going on?" Helena whispered to Mother Adoration.

"Something is wrong with the babe." The old woman said, her voice like rustling paper. "I can't tell what. I believe the cord is wrapped around its neck."

"What does that mean?" Rosalie asked, but she was ignored.

"What can we do?" Helena demanded.

"I must run to the healer, he has tools that can readjust the child, unwrap the-" The sister's voice was cut off by another shriek of Mia's.

"We don't have time," Evelyn said, taking Mia's hand into her own. Her sister-in-law's grip was bone-crushingly strong and Evelyn had to bite her own lip to stop from screaming. "Let me try."

"Try what?" Helena asked suspiciously.

"I helped deliver a few babies while in the Circle- one had a similar issue. A cord wrapped around its neck. One of the mages showed me how to use magic to save the child. I can do this."

"Use magic!" Helena scoffed. "You could kill us all."

"Are you sure, Lady Trevelyan?" Mother Adoration examined Evelyn's face closely.

"I'm sure," Evelyn lied. But the sister accepted this and hobbled out from between Mia's legs. Evelyn rushed and took her place.

"What do you need?" Rosalie asked.

"Get me some fresh clothes." Rosalie nodded and ran out the door. Mia grunted and groaned, squirming in the sweaty sheets.

Helena leaned in close to Evelyn. "Are you sure you can do this?" For the first time, Evelyn saw genuine concern in Helena's eyes.

"Yes, I've done this before." Evelyn swallowed nervously. "On a goat."

Helena's eyes widened, but after a moment, she only said, "Andraste preserve us," and took a damp cloth to Mia's forehead.

Rosalie came back and laid a pile of clean clothes beside Evelyn. "Rosalie, one more thing," Evelyn said. "In my bag in my room… There's a small pocket on the inside. There's a small silver coin in it. Could you… Could you get it for me?" After looking at her quizzically for a moment, Rosalie nodded and left once again. When she returned, she slipped the cool coin into Evelyn's hand. She tried to focus on the coin's coolness and think of Cullen's love. _Baby,_ she thought. _I am bringing you into the world that the love of this man exists in and that is enough._

Evelyn laid her hand on Mia's belly, coin between them. She felt the muscles beneath the thin layer of skin pushing and contracting, trying their best to bring life into the world. She closed her eyes and felt ice run through her veins- prickly and clear and precise. It trickled from her heart, down her arm, and into her fingertips. An image came into her mind, a small lump of flesh, formless and dark and warm. A rope, tied around one end. Evelyn carefully coordinated the icy sparks of her mind around the rope, coaxing it to loosen and move. She had to keep the sparks constantly in check- don't spread too far, too deep. Stay and move. Precise and neat.

After what felt like a lifetime, Evelyn felt a sudden snap and the muscles beneath her hand heaved as one. Mia screamed.

"Oh my god," Evelyn shouted, dropping the coin onto the bed. "What do I do?"

"Grab the child!" Mother Adoration yelled, managing to be heard over the chaos. Evelyn held out her arm and in a flush of disgusting yellow fluid and blood, a slender package of flesh slid into her cradled arm. Evelyn awkwardly held the child to her chest.

"Clear the nose and mouth!" Mother Adoration commanded. Rosalie shakily grabbed a rag and scrubbed furiously at the child's nose and mouth. After a terrifying moment of silence, the baby began to cry weakly. Mia's body relaxed instantly and she let out a long sigh.

"Thank the Maker." Evelyn sighed. She looked down at the child- a boy. He was so tiny and frail, she was scared her embrace might snap him in half. Mother Adoration took the child from her, deftly cut the cord that once threatened his life, wrapped him in white rags, and examined him closely. Evelyn picked up the coin, still shining despite the mess, and gave thanks.

"You did well." Helena said to her, her eyes wet with exhaustion and joy. Evelyn smiled and nodded her agreement. Rosalie instantly slumped into a chair, letting her own exhaustion take over her. Evelyn watched as Mother Adoration tore off Mia's sweaty blouse and pressed the babe to her breast. After the child latched on, Mia took him into her own arms and Mother Adoration signaled Helena and Evelyn out into the hall.

"How is the child?" Helena asked.

"He is frail." The sister said, shaking her head. "Mia is fine, but the babe might not last long."

"Why?" Evelyn asked, shocked.

"Mia is older, perhaps having a child now was risky to begin with." The sister frowned. "But even if the child lives through the next few days, his life will be difficult."

"Is there anything we can do?" Helena asked.

"Keep germs out from that room. Make sure Mia is well fed, and that the baby is too. Call for the healer as soon as he seems feverish or acts strangely." The sister smiled sadly. "And pray often." With that, the sister waddled down the hall and down the stairs to tell the men the news.

"Maker, when will there be an end to this?" Helena muttered to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Mia is strong, and she has our help." Unsure of herself, Evelyn placed a gentle hand on Helena's shoulder. "It'll be alright." Helena looked at Evelyn's hand and then at her face.

"I… I feel I have acted foolishly before. I judged you took quickly. It's just… Mages have always been feared in my old home, I…" Helena shook her head. "I just wanted to make sure my family was safe. I'm sure you can understand." Evelyn nodded slightly, still wary.

"I don't agree with you on many things. I don't know if we can ever be friends… But we are family. And I hope we can be a happy one." Helena hesitantly laid a hand on Evelyn's shoulder before going back into Mia's room.

Exhausted, Evelyn leaned against the wall, slowly sinking to the ground. She still held the coin in her hand. She pressed that beautiful memory into her heart, and asked Andraste, if she could find it in her heart to bring that boy into the world, if she could also work to keep him in it as well.


	18. Visitors

**I don't own Dragon Age. Please, leave a review if you stop by and glance at the chapter. Even if you just say, "good shit," it still means the world to me.**

 **(if i don't get at least 6 reviews that are just "good shit," you're all terrible at what you do)**

Evelyn tried her best to stir the pot, but it was slow going. The stew was thick and needed two hands, but Evelyn didn't complain. The entire household was trying to manage itself without the guidance of Mia. Helena could run a household, but she did not have the charm nor the sheer willpower of Mia. Rosalie stayed home more often than before, but a sullen teenager can hardly add anything to a home.

Evelyn lifted her eyes to Cullen- his body tense and his eyes dark as he watched Lief slowly make his next chess move.

"Hmm," She heard him muse. "I see what you're doing."

With Helena so busy, Evelyn and him took turns watching the children. It was amazing to see Cullen with children- sometimes the Commander, domineering and bossy, other times the Chantry boy, shy and unsure, and sometimes something she had only seen in the warm hours of the morning with just the two of them- playful and gentle and sweeter than nectar.

Lief loved the attention of his uncle, especially once it was discovered that Lief could destroy Cullen at chess. The first game, Cullen lost on purpose, he had assured her. But after that, Cullen could only come close to beating his nephew. It was almost sad, watching the proud and powerful Commander Rutherford be foiled by his four-year-old nephew. That is, it was sad until Evelyn saw the look of utter frustration and desperation on her husband's face. Then, Evelyn burst into laughter.

"Do you want me to help?" Beatrix asked her, eyeing the stew. Evelyn sighed and relinquished control of the spoon and pot to the girl. Evelyn leaned over the bar, looking up the stairs. Helena had gone to check on Mia and the child- a boy they named Arthur in honor of Terrin's father- and Evelyn was desperate to hear updates. She had tried to cast some healing spells over the two of them, but nothing made the child well.

"Do you think Arthur will be okay?" Beatrix asked in a whisper. As if someone in the room would scold her for asking.

"Babies get sick all the time." Evelyn said, feigning confidence. Cullen looked up from his game to give her a warning glance. "I wouldn't worry about it, Beatrix." But then, maybe she _should_ worry. Evelyn didn't quite know what the right approach was in this instant, and when someone knocked on the door and Beatrix went to answer it, she prayed a silent thank you.

When Beatrix opened the door, a familiarly accented voice said, "Is Lady Evelyn Trevelyan here?" Beatrix gave Evelyn a curious look. Cullen rose, suspicion darkening his eyes, and stepped towards the door. Evelyn followed him, her steps slow and long.

A short, fat man with a ridiculous Dorian-level mustache stood at the door, dressed in blue and silver. Behind him, a simple but elegant carriage sat in the road.

"Lady Trevelyan?" The man asked, his Ostwich accent somehow jarring to Evelyn's ears after all the Ferelden she had been exposed to.

"Who is asking?" She replied. The little man didn't say anything, just turned and scurried to the carriage. He opened the door with flair. A tall, dark-haired man stepped out, dressed elegantly. His beard was trimmed neatly and his hair was parted expertly. At first, his face was lowered, but when he raised it, Evelyn's heart stopped. The pale green eyes that had surrounded her childhood. Those were Trevelyan eyes. And the scar just below the hairline.

Rickard. Lord of Ostwick.

Evelyn almost fainted, but Cullen's hands were there, on her back and her arm, keeping her upright. He had no idea who this man was, yet he was still there for her. _And Maker, I'll need him_.

Rickard took a step forward, breathing deeply. He grimaced, as if all the fresh air offended him. He turn and out of the carriage came a round man with beady eyes and a thin woman with dark auburn hair streaked with silver.

"Mother!" Evelyn finally managed to say. "Father!" Cullen tense behind her, but said nothing.

"Evelyn." Rickard said, his voice low and smooth. "You're looking… _Healthy_." He eyed her up and down, lingering on her half-arm. Evelyn felt flushed.

"Rickard- I mean. My lord." She curtsied as best as she could, her cheeks burning with shame suddenly. "I… I didn't know you were coming to visit us."

"I felt it necessary." Rickard was staring at Cullen, his eyes like cold stone. Cullen stared back, unflinching.

Evelyn rose slowly. "M-May I introduce you, my lord," She pulled Cullen forward. "To Commander Cullen Rutherford… My, err, husband."

Rickard's eyebrows rose. "So the rumors are true. I didn't think you would go through with it, Evelyn." Rickard stepped forward, still staring down Cullen. After a moment, Cullen said, "It's a pleasure to meet some of Evelyn's family." He bowed slightly and slipped his arm around her waist. Evelyn thought this was a sign of affection before she felt his hand shake as it clutched her tunic.

Rickard gave a poor imitation of a smile. Then, he gestured to Evelyn's parents. "May I present Lord Bann and Lady Emma Trevelyan. You've never met before, _Commander_ , have you?" The words were pointed and made Evelyn tense.

"No, we haven't." Cullen bowed slightly to Bann. "It is an honor, my lord. My lady."

Bann nodded and gruffly said, "Please, my boy. We've heard much about you two." Cullen managed to gather his wits and make conversation with the lord. Evelyn examined her parents for a moment. Bann had once been tall and limber, but the years had not been kind and a paunch hung over his too-tight belt. His hair and beard were a solid gray, his eyes were almost hidden under his thick eyebrows. But his emerald green eyes still gleamed and Evelyn smiled at the presence of so many smile lines on her father's face. Her mother's face seemed hollow with age- her cheeks were sunken and loose. Her silvered auburn hair was tight into a tight bun, which only made her face more severe. Her mouth was small and wrinkled, like a badly healed wound. Seeing the two of them, so touched by time, Evelyn's chest tightened. Bann smiled at Cullen and said a few words that Evelyn didn't pay attention to.

Of course Cullen was handling this better than her, he had no reason to be nervous. He didn't live in their domineering castle, under their watchful eyes. He wasn't expelled from their home as a child, and barred from returning for the rest of his life. But she was.

"Evelyn?" Cullen said, breaking her stupor. "Are you alright?"

"Wha- Yes. Yes, of course." She managed.

Rickard smiled a cold smile. "I was just saying how lovely the woods were on our trip here. Perhaps you would walk with me, Evelyn?"

She swallowed nervously. "Will Mother and Father be joining us?"

Bann opened his mouth to respond, but Rickard said, "They wish to rest- surely Cullen can show them inside and tend to their needs."

"We've been traveling for so long," Emma said, her voice papery. "I could do with some refreshments."

"Of course." Cullen assured her. "Please, uhm, step inside." Cullen stepped aside to allow Lord and Lady Trevelyan into the inn. He gave her a worried glance before following them, closing the door behind him. Evelyn turned to Rickard, who was already walking down the road. She jogged to catch up with him.

As Rickard strolled down the road in silence, Evelyn reflected on her memories with him. She had left so early in life- but Rickard was still there in her memories. Somehow, distinctly, she remember her fifth birthday, when she got her first pony. Rickard had taken her out into the yard to ride it, but had pushed her off into the grass. She could still smell the dirt shoved up her nose, she could hear her pony trotting away, and Rickard's high pitched laughter as he ran away with it.

But she had been five. It was foolish to hold that against a grown man.

"How have you been, cousin?" She asked.

"Not as busy as you." He mused. "I thought you would've come home after that magister of yours was defeated."

"Err, yes, well-"

"But you didn't. I assumed, after the Inquisition was disbanded-"

"We didn't-"

"And after you were… _Maimed_ ," he eyed her arm, which made her blush furiously. "I thought, 'Surely, she'll come back now. She's had her fun, she will do her duty.'"

"My _duty_?"

"Your _duty_. And return to Ostwick."

"Rodrick," Evelyn began. "I am a grown woman. I do not need your permission-"

"You think being a mage exempts you from your duties?" Rickard glared at her. "We all have to make sacrifices, Evelyn. You went to the Conclave for us!"

"I went for my people." She countered, trying her very best not to yell. "For the mages."

"Oh, the _mages_." Rickard rolled his eyes. "Evelyn, for every second you were in that tower, you were still a Trevelyan. You never left our family."

"Truly?" She spat at him, her anger rising. "Is that what you told yourself when you sent me away after the Rebellion?" Rickard fell silent, but she continued. "After the Circle revolted, I came first- _first_ \- to our home. _Our!_ And what did you do? You gave me a blanket, a purse of copper coins, and pushed me out of the door." She felt hot tears slip down her face, but Evelyn refused to acknowledge them. "You gave up your claim over me on that day, _Lord Trevelyan_. I am my own woman, and you shall have none of who I am."

"I will _not_ allow you your title." He barked. "You had the Divine ask for your own title? You couldn't even find the courage to face me on your own?"

"This is not a matter of courage, Rickard. This is about what is right. You never wanted me in your family and now I seek to make my own."

"You expect me to give you up now- now that you have become useful to us?" Rickard grabbed her shoulders. "Don't you see, Evelyn? You could do so much for your family."

"You are not my family, Rickard!" She screamed. His face went pale and twisted into a scowl but she pushed his back with her good arm. "You and _your_ family have kept me at arm's length for my entire life. No, no more. I will not be a stranger in anyone's home anymore. I will make my own family."

"What? With your washed-up Templar?"

"Yes." She nodded. "With my washed-up Templar. With the love of my life and the friends I love. They are my family. And _you_ ," she pushed him into a tree, bracing her arm across his chest. "You will not stand in my way. You will grant permission to create my own family, my own House. You will never stand in the way of my happiness again."

"And if I don't?" He spat out at her. Evelyn pushed against his throat gently.

"If you don't… You will bring down the wrath of the Herald of Andraste herself. Do you know what that means to Thedas?" She found herself smiling. "Do you know what they will do? The Divine, the Empress, the King… Even some of the magisters. They all sing my praises. And you would put your _city-state_ against them all?"

Rickard's face went slack as he finally understood. He straightened himself up and pushed Evelyn back. "Fine," he said. "But you will never be welcome in Ostwick again."

"I will go anywhere I please, Rickard. Just try to stop me." She felt this threat was a little empty, as she had no desire to ever go to Ostwick again, but she made it nonetheless. She turned and walked back to the inn.

"What do you mean to become in your new House?" Rickard mocked her. "You think the other lords will accept you as their Herald? Their Goddess? You think you can be a Queen? " He laughed. "They will never have you."

"Not a Queen." She called back. "An Inquisitor."

Once they returned to the inn, Rickard set off at once. Evelyn only had a few words with her parents before they disappeared in a storm of dust and dirt. She stood in the road, watching their carriage get smaller and smaller. Cullen stood by her, hands on his hips and a thoughtful look on his face.

"Your parents, they're…"

"Yes?"

"They're quite nice, actually." He said. "A bit… Funny. But nice."

"That's… Surprising." Evelyn said. "Or, maybe it isn't. I'm not sure. I don't know who my parents are. I can't think of the last time we spoke. I had always hoped they were good people."

"Perhaps you can still know them. There is still time."

"Maybe." She sighed and slipped her arm through Cullen's, walking back to the inn.

"What did Rickard say?" He asked her, rubbing her hand gently with his.

She thought about what to say. Cullen would not stand for how her cousin spoke to her, but it would do no good to make him angry. "He will grant me my title. When we return to Skyhold, we'll create our new House."

"When?" Cullen asked, almost surprised.

"When." She affirmed. "Cullen, I… I love it here, it's wonderful and so… Normal. And Your family… They're mine too, I feel it. But," she sighed. "But we are not normal. We are not farmers or innkeepers. We are meant to be the Inquisition. We are meant to help." She stopped and looked into his face. "Do you understand?"

Cullen's face was hard to read. But after a moment, he placed the gentlest of kisses on her lips. With a smile, he whispered, "Yes. I do."

Evelyn smiled back and kissed her washed-up Templar, the man who would build her future alongside her.

 **Sorry it's been a while. College is horrible and I hate everything. Also, I know I ripped off a bit of Game of Thrones. I don't wanna hear it.**


	19. Lightning Strikes

**I don't own Dragon Age**

Evelyn rubbed Mia's hand gently. The woman looked tired and pale, but the light had returned to her eyes. Little baby Arthur was swaddled tightly in her arms.

"He's beautiful," She told the mother.

"Yes, he is." Mia murmured, pushing her hair from her eyes. "The healer says he's through the worst of it." She looked into the face of her son, and her eyes went glassy. "I think he's blind."

"Arthur?" Evelyn asked, shocked. Mia nodded and stroked her son's face. "Surely, it's too early to tell."

"Perhaps, but… Watch." Mia waved her hand over the baby's face. He stared forward, not moving. Mia reached to her side table and took the candelabra, bringing it close to her son's face. Still nothing. She moved it about wildly. Still, nothing. The baby made a gurgling sound and Mia set down the candelabra and brought the babe's mouth to her breast.

"I haven't told Terrin." Mia whispered.

"I… I'm so sorry, Mia." Evelyn didn't know what to say in this situation. Mia looked up at her, ringed in the warm candlelight and smiled.

"I'm not sure why, but I feel… Lighter now, now that I've spoken of it. I'm not scared." She looked back to her son. "He's my child, and he will always have a place in my home and heart. We'll find a way to live our life together."

Evelyn laid a hand on her leg. "I'll let you get some sleep." Mia didn't say anything as Evelyn slipped out from the room.

As she walked through the halls, she mused on the image of Mia, clutching her son to her chest. Most smallfolk would abandon a blind child at the foot of a Chantry and be done with it. As an innkeeper, Mia has more options, but the burden of the child will never lessen. But Mia never doubted that they would make do. Her love for her child, for her family, was that strong.

Evelyn pressed her hands against her stomach. If she could bear a child, would she feel that love? Surely it would be different from the love she felt for Cullen, but somehow the same, from what she understood of the love of a mother. Would it be like when she led armies into battle, the devotion and fear she felt for her men? Of course, this all could be for naught, if the Anchor and her trips to the Fade had poisoned her womb. The idea made her stomach churn. If Cullen had no future with her, if their "normal" life was further ruined by their choices, how would they manage?

She climbed down the stairs as a crack of thunder rumbled through the house. Outside, a terrible storm ripped at the earth. Al was safely inside, laying by the fire, and raised his head and wagged his tail at Evelyn's entrance. Rosalie was slicing bread while Helena was stirring a pot of soup, which smelled of cream and chives. Cullen was braiding Beatrix's hair, and a look of utter concentration weighed heavy on his face. From Evelyn's perspective, he was doing a terrible job. Beatrix read a book quietly. Branson napped in a chair by the fire, with Lief in the crook of his arm, asleep as well.

"Mia is doing fine," Evelyn announced. "I told her to get some rest."

"Good," Helena said.

"Where's Terrin?" Evelyn asked.

"He's in the forge." Rosalie told her. "He's been in there for hours- it's not right. He should be with his wife."

"Maybe he likes being somewhere where he's in control," Helena whispered. Rosalie didn't hear her, but Evelyn smiled a little at the comment. Now that Helena no longer antagonized her daily, Evelyn could appreciate her observant eye.

Evelyn sat by Cullen and watched him fumble with Beatrix's hair. Her mousey brown hair was a glorified knot, but Cullen was still staring at it intently.

"I think I've gotten the hang of this." He muttered to her, weaving another strand into the bundle.

"Mhm." Evelyn smiled at him. "And what do you think, Beatrix?" Her niece turned back to her and sighed with the frustration of an 80 year old woman. Evelyn laughed and leaned back in her chain, setting her hand on Cullen's leg. Was this what it would be like? Cullen doting on their daughter by the fire. Or would the Inquisition keep them from moments like this? Would Evelyn be like her own mother- nonexistent? She had been an Inquisitor, a Herald, a savior, a conqueror, but she had never been a mother. Did she have that kindness in her? Had the war turned everything soft in her to calluses and scars?

Another clap of thunder broke her train of thought. Lightning flashed through the window as rain beat down heavily against the glass. Branson muttered in his sleep against the storm.

"It's really coming down out there," Evelyn mused. "It just started a few minutes ago and now this." No one listened to her and Evelyn was fine with that, surprisingly. She was no longer scared to be heard.

Another clap of thunder shook the house, and a barrage of knocks followed soon after. Evelyn rose and opened the door, letting the rain, wind, and a soaked farmer inside.

"One of the barns has been set ablaze!" He yelled. "It's spreading to the others, where the harvest is kept. We need every man's help!" Cullen was already up, shaking Branson awake and pulling out the door behind him.

"Stay here, Evelyn!" Cullen called over his shoulder. "Keep everyone safe!" And with that, they were gone again.

 _Safe_ , she thought to herself. _Safe from rain and wind. Meaning stay out of the way._ But Cullen didn't want her to get hurt and she could respect him for that. She took his place behind Beatrix and began untangling her hair. Across from them, Lief was just now waking up, but promptly laid on his side and fell back asleep. Al got up, poked his nose at the toddler, and curled up by the chair.

"What are you reading?" Evelyn asked.

Beatrix gave a hesitant look to Helena, who was still stirring her pot furiously, before turning the cover so Evelyn could see it. _All This Shit Is Weird by Varric Tethras_. Evelyn stifled a laugh. "Where did you get that?" She asked the girl.

"Rosalie lent it to me. Don't tell anyone!" Beatrix whispered to her. Evelyn nodded and smiled.

"Do you like it?"

"Mostly. He's an alright writer." She said dismissively, which Evelyn stored away to tell Varric the next time they met. "But… is it all true? All the battles and missions and danger? Did you really do all that?" Beatrix's eyes were bright, like her mother's.

Evelyn smiled and nodded again. "But Varric is probably better at telling the story than I am. Keep reading." Beatrix nodded and turned to the page once more as Evelyn ran her hand through her niece's hair.

After a while, Rosalie, bored of the kitchen work, strode to the window. "I hope everyone is okay."

"I'm sure they'll be back before we know it." Helena mused, covering the pot and wiping her hands on her apron. "Now, come set the table."

"There are men outside though." Rosalie ignored her. "Just walking around. Maybe the fire is put out?"

"Nevermind that, Rose." Helena said, a little annoyed now. "Come and set the table."

"No, Helena, they look… Strange." Rosalie pressed her face against the glass, the rain still beating down. "Come look."

"Rosalie!"

Evelyn sighed and walked over to the window beside Rosalie, about to comfort the teenager's worried mind. But there _were_ figures outside, gray in the pouring rain. They carried long staffs and drifted from building to building. Every once in awhile, they would point their staffs to the sky, and the tip would glow. A clap of thunder would always answer this movement. One of the figures stopped, and pulled back his hood, revealing a helmet that split into two spires at the forehead.

Evelyn gasped. "Venatori."


	20. Andraste Saves

**I don't own Dragon Age**

"Upstairs, now!" Evelyn yelled, trying to push the woman up the corridor fast. Helena clutched Lief to her breast, while Rosalie dragged Beatrix behind her. "Beatrix, get me my staff!" The little girl nodded and dashed away from Rosalie.

"Who are they?" Helena asked.

"Venatori." Evelyn said. "A Tevinter cult we fought against- they're here for me." Rosalie gasped and Lief began to cry. "Listen, you must hide in Mia's room. Don't come out, and don't make a noise."

"How will you fight them all?" Helena's eyes were wide with fear. "All by yourself? Perhaps we could help, I-"

"No! I can manage it." Evelyn lied. There were at least 20 Venatori roaming the village; even on her best days that would've been a stretch. And now, with one arm and no back up, the odds were against her. "You have to hide- go!" She shoved them up the stairs and, after a moment, Helena hurried everyone into Mia's room. Beatrix came running down the corridor and shoved the staff into Evelyn's waiting hands.

"Let me help!" The girl begged.

"Beatrix, go, it's not safe." She shoved the girl up the stairs and then ran down, taking a stance a few feet from the door. As quick as she could, she sent ice to seal the door tight. The air chilled and Evelyn shivered, from the cold and from the fear. Alistair stood beside her, his hair raised in alarm and a growl emanating from deep in his chest.

They were trapped in this house, anyone could see that. But Evelyn didn't have time to evacuate the women, and even if they did, the village was crawling with Venatori. And the baby would never last out in the storm.

A fist pounded on the door and Evelyn held her breath. After a moment, the windows shattered and wind and rain poured through the shattered glass. Two stalkers leapt into the parlor, blades gleaming in the light. Evelyn instantly felled one with a crack of lightning. The other took a running leap and tried to bring his blades down into her. Evelyn blocked him with her staff and he stumbled back, giving her enough time to light him aflame. He screamed and ran madly before Alistair lept up and tore at his throat. The man fell, and the warhound barked so loudly, Evelyn felt it in her chest.

The door buckled and cracked, revealing a brute swinging a greataxe into the old wood. With a broad stroke, Evelyn sent a chain of sparks that danced across the axe's metal and arched to the other warriors in the background, sending up screams of pain. The brute stumbled back and fell, but then two gladiators took his place, their shields an unyielding wall of iron. Two more stalkers leapt through the window and Evelyn was half a second too late to block the first's slashing blades. She braced herself for the pain.

"Hyyah!" A clay washing dish- strangely identical to the one in Mia's room- came sailing over Evelyn's head and crashed into the stalker. He stumbled back for a moment, just long enough for Evelyn to freeze him in place. Alistair grabbed his arm and tugged- one, twice, three times- before it ripped off. The man screamed like a kettle on the stove and fell to the ground.

The second hesitated, but only for a moment. As he lept forward, a great hammer came down and crushed his skull against the earth. Above him, Terrin roared and threw another, smaller hammer out the window, nailing one straight in the head.

As another stalker jumped through the window, Evelyn looked over her shoulder to see Helena, terrified but surefooted, at the top of the stairs. Beatrix stood behind her, handing her a small stool this time.

"Helena!" She yelled. "No, get back!" But the stalker already barreled Evelyn over and she fell to the ground. Helena threw the stool, but the stalker dodged it expertly and grabbed her, his blade glinting in the dim light. "No!" Evelyn yelled. The stalker turned and held the knife to her throat.

"Yield!" He yelled, his voice raspy and demanded. Beatrix cowered in the corner, her eyes wide with fear. Helena went still, staring at Evelyn for help. Evelyn felt her heart break in two as she laid her staff onto the ground.

The ropes burned like fire as the mages tied her to one of the columns in the parlor. There were about 15 Venatori circled around her. They had trapped the others in Mia's room. Alistair had taken another Venatori out before they were finally able to wrangle him into the room as well- it was deemed unsafe to try and kill the dog outright.

The others, all damp and gray from the storm they brewed outside, stood around her uneasily. Some were breaking down the furniture, placing the shattered wood around Evelyn. One called, "Finish it, Calpernia!"

One of the mages came forward and pulled back her hood, revealing a woman with fair blonde hair underneath. She might of been pretty, but it was clear she had been on the run for many weeks, with her sunken cheeks and eyes and scars that still bled.

"You will pay," She spoke, her voice like a rusty knife. "You have stolen our last chance."

"Please," Evelyn pleaded. Her heart pounded so loud in her ears, she could barely hear her own voice. "Listen- whatever you think you're doing-"

"You will be _silent_!" The woman scream, her hands erupting in flame. "You- _Inquisitor_ \- have destroyed any hope Tevinter had. You have taken our conductor, our savior, and now- now you will burn." She leaned over and set some of the kindling aflame.

"Please, spare the others!" Evelyn shrieked, tears streaming down her face. Her hand was bound and she could think of no magic to save herself. She could barely feel the heat of the burning fire "Please, they are innocents- They do not need to die tonight!"

"None are innocent here! The blood of Tevinter is on all of your hands!" Calpernia shrieked as the flames grew higher. Evelyn's vision went cloudy and she began to cough from the thick, black smoke. "You, Herald, will burn like your Andraste, for the crimes against the slaves of Tevinter. Without Corypheus, there is no hope for us. Just as there is no hope for you."

Evelyn closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face. _Andraste, please. If you're there, save me one last time._

Calpernia's smile turned wicked and cruel. "You will burn as all our hopes burned. You will scream and die in the fire, and then we-"

She never got the chance to finish that sentence before an arrow, sure as the dawn, pierced through the shattered window and embedded itself in her neck. Blood spurted out irregularly as she fell to the ground. The other mages took up arms, but it was a slaughter. Arrows poured in by the second and the Venatori fell. One sliced through Evelyn's arm and she screamed. Soon, they began to flee.

A figure, black as night, burst through the door, a sword gleaming in the firelight. He slashed through mage after mage, not even feeling their spells as they burned through his thin armor. After the Venatori scattered, he lept into the flames, and with a single stroke, freed Evelyn. The man took her into his arms and ran out of the inn.

In the rain, Evelyn's mind begin to clear from the haze of pain and smoke. The man who held her, the man who saved her- it was Cullen. Blood spilled from a wound on his temple, and patches of his skin were burned to an angry red, but he wept with joy as he stroked her face. Around them, Inquisition scouts flooded into the inn, purging the rest of the Venatori, putting out the flames, and saving the others.

Evelyn smiled at her husband. "You came for me."

"You're alright," Cullen blubbered, the rain soaking him to the bone and mingling with his tears. "Sweet Maker, you're alright." He clutched her to his chest and Evelyn, exhausted, found the strength to thank Andraste.

The snow crunched beneath Evelyn's boots as she strapped the bag to her saddle. She shivered and prayed that the snow wouldn't hinder their journey. The village was still weak after the attack, but at least it was still standing. Evelyn thank the Maker endlessly for Leliana's foresight- she had kept the area patrolled with scouts, who had been tracking the Venatori and had closed in just in time. The scouts stayed around the help rebuild the village, and though the winter had been hard, they had survived.

"It's a shame you must leave now." Mia muttered, shivering in the chill. She had her cloak pulled tight around her and a frown on her red face. "It's not right- to leave on Wintersend."

"We have to." Evelyn said, taking her sister-in-law into her arms. "We've been away for far too long." But she agreed, the parting had the sting of sorrow for her as well. In the months after the Venatori attack, as they rebuilt the village and the inn, Eldham had almost become a home for her. But Evelyn knew that Skyhold was where she was meant to be.

"Thank you, for all the lovely gifts." Mia said with a smile. Evelyn blushed. Honestly, she had splurged and spoiled the entire family: Beatrix was gifted with Varric's entire bibliography, Lief got a new, glimmering chess set, Rosalie was given a gown hand picked by Vivienne, Helena got a Chant of Life, decorated by the clerics at the Grand Cathedral, Terrin was given some strange schematics that Evelyn couldn't make sense of but which made him smile, Branson got two barrels of Antivan wine, and Mia got the finest silk Orlais could offer. It was the first time she had spent Wintersend with family in a lifetime- she was allowed to indulge. Arthur was still too sickly to be a full part of the festivities, but Evelyn had slipped away to sneak a small Templar doll into his crib.

"It was nothing," Evelyn lied. Mia's eyes went glassy as she tried to find something to say, but only silence came, so Evelyn embraced her again. She had come to trust Mia and love her- she prayed that they would meet again.

Evelyn pulled herself atop her horse and saw Cullen, embracing Branson and Mia at the door. It seemed the Rutherford clan had found the time to heal in this time together, and Evelyn thanked the Maker for that.

As Cullen pulled himself onto his horse, Mia called, "Be careful, the snow makes the paths treacherous! And there are bandits in the woods, so be mindful!" Evelyn gave Cullen a smile- Mia had seen them fight Venatori assassins, yet still worried as they traveled well populated roads.

The couple trotted down the main road, watching the inn get smaller and smaller in the distance. "I will miss them," Cullen murmured. Evelyn reached over and placed her hand on his. He smiled at her and brought her gloved hand to his lips. "Let's go home."

Further down the road, Cullen said, "It was nice to see the others get their gifts, the Templars don't really celebrate these holidays. But I'm glad you enjoyed your gift" Cullen smiled bashfully and Evelyn laughed. Cullen had surprised her with a prosthetic made by Varric (allegedly). It was a wonder, with layers of ivory to create the illusion of skin and mechanics to make the fist close and the fingers move. Though Evelyn was grateful, they both decided the instrument was a bit too ornate to wear on everyday occasions.

She pressed her hand against her stomach, content to keep her present for Cullen a secret for _one_ more day. "Come on," She said, kicking her mare into a gallop, kicking up tufts of snow behind her. "Skyhold awaits!"


	21. An Epilogue Among Flowers

_When the Inquisitor and the Commander returned to Skyhold, their work instantly consumed them. The House of Trevelyan-Rutherford was immediately declared, with Lady Trevelyan declared their liege lord. Though it was granted with Lord Rickard Trevelyan's approval, no further contact between the Houses transpired- though Lady Trevelyan traveled back to Ostwick twice afterwards: once for her father's dying days and once for her mother's._

 _The Circle at Skyhold was also created, and was home to the majority of the Inquisition's mages. Lady Trevelyan served as First Enchanter, and created one of the finest schools of battle magic found in southern Thedas. Her growing political power brought her in contention with Grand Enchanter Vivienne. Though the two ladies had a close personal friendship, their political one was much more turbulent. Eventually, Lady Trevelyan was forced to halve the Inquisition's mages and disperse her charges throughout the other Circles. One of the mages that_ _ **did**_ _stay at Skyhold was her own niece, Beatrix Hawtrey, who came to the Circle at the age of 13 and served as Lady Trevelyan's first apprentice. Though her parents were saddened by their daughter's departure, Mia and Terrin were comforted to know she would be with family and were often seen on Skyhold's grounds._

 _Commander Cullen, as he was still known despite his new title, also set to work, creating a new Templar order. Despite his reluctance to take up the name of the Templars, that is what the people took his new force for. He developed a kind of therapy for ex-Templars in order to fight lyrium addiction and saw the use of lyrium fall into disfavor. Working alongside his wife and the Divine, Commander Cullen's new Templars became integral to the Circles and College of Enchanters, working closely with mages, offering them great freedoms. Marriages between Templars and mages quickly became the norm. After a few years, however, Commander Cullen retired from the Order and gave command to Commander Rylen (though Cullen's authority was still held above all others)._

 _These ventures had to be put on hold, however, as the Inquisitor's pregnancy was announced soon after their return to Skyhold. In the third week of Kingsway, Lady Trevelyan went into a labor that lasted for three days. Many believed she would died in the process. Cullen was said to refuse all food and water, going back and forth between Skyhold's chapel and his wife's bedside. The Divine herself came to comfort the couple and provide support. In the third day, however, Lady Trevelyan gave birth to a girl and a boy, who they named, respectively, Cassandra Beatrix Trevelyan-Rutherford and Gregory Hawke Trevelyan-Rutherford. Though upon further examination, it was determined Lady Trevelyan would never bear another child, this news was forgotten in the joy the children brought to the couple._

 _Cassandra Beatrix Trevelyan-Rutherford was known as Cassie to all who knew her. At the age of three, she took up a practice sword. By the age of eight, she was as skilled as any of her father's recruits. By fourteen, she could best any of the Templars. Two days after her seventeenth birthday, she defeated her own father- an occasion so momentous that it was recorded by the Skyhold librarian. Though her parents were reluctant to allow her to be involved in Inquisition matters, she quickly proved herself and became her mother's Right Hand in all matters. Beautiful like her mother and strong like her father, she was also more gregarious than her parents would ever be. She was a popular in Orlesian and Ferelden courts for her lively and exciting attitude. Known to take many lovers of any gender and race, the greatest among them was Prince Maric- the heir to the Ferelden throne. Though King Alistair was rumored to approve of the match (mainly based off of his high approval of Cassie), Cassie refused to marry her lover. Though her parents loved her deeply, her high-spirited nature often brought her against them. The greatest of these mishaps became known as The Great Quarrel, when Cullen discovered his daughter was using lyrium to enhance her abilities. Father and daughter were estranged for over three years, eventually driving even Evelyn to leave the family and stay with the Divine for a time. Eventually though, the family reconciled and Cassie worked alongside her family to discover how to use lyrium in portions which were safe._

 _Gregory Hawke Trevelyan-Rutherford was a thin, dark haired boy who lacked his sister's great physical strength. His magical abilities showed themselves at the age of five, and he quickly proved to be an adept mage. Though he disliked his mother's favored battle magic, Gregory became the finest Fade mage among the Circles. It was rumored that his mother's exposure to the Fade had been inherited by Gregory and thus protected his mind from its destruction. Using his family's connections, he studied all across Thedas before settling down in Tevinter to work alongside family friend, Magister Pavus. Stern and scholarly, he bore a striking resemblance to his parents in every way, but still maintained a good relationship with his sister, even going into the field with her upon occasion. Gregory took no public lover, except for a elven slave named Tavin. Tavin was known to be a cunning man, and loved Gregory deeply. But after an assassination plot against the Inquisitor's family was discovered, Tavin disappeared and Gregory never took another lover- besides his work._

 _But that is all in the future. This story shall end in the middle- when the twins are five. Skyhold is bustling- and it is springtime._

Evelyn clutched Gregory to her chest, hiding him beneath her cloak. "Is it clear?" She whispered furiously to Cullen.

"I think so," He said back, Cassie's hand clutched in his. They were sneaking out of Skyhold- just for the day, just for the afternoon. The family rarely got time alone, apart from work, that it became a game for them- how easily can the Trevelyan-Rutherford's break out of their own castle.

"Mama!" Cassie whispered. "Are we going to knock some guards out? Climb a wall?"

"Next time, sweetling." She promised. She and Cullen strode out from behind the wall, trying to blend in with the other farmers who were selling their grains and flocks. Without a notice of the guards, the family slipped through the gates. Cassie gave a loud cheer, which Cullen quickly shooshed her for. Gregory looked up at Evelyn and whispered, "Did we do it?"

"You did it, Gregory." She said, rubbing his back. "You got us out of Skyhold- good job!" The child smiled and nodded, and leaned back against her breast.

They found a meadow a few minutes away from the castle, where the daffodils bloomed and swayed in the warm breeze. Evelyn laid her cloak on the ground and Cullen revealed a basket, filled with a flask of sweet wine, bread, cheese- and even a pouch of strawberries.

"You're too sweet," she smiled at her husband as she popped one into her mouth. He blushed and leaned over, kissing her swiftly.

"Look, Papa!" Cassie yelled. "It's Al!" The mabari came bounding down the mountain, his tongue flying in the wind. Somehow, he always knew when the family was out of the castle and made sure to escape to spend the day with them. Cassie charged him and tackled him. He licked her face furiously and Evelyn laughed at the sight. Cullen's warhound had not quite turned out how they expected.

Later, Cullen and Cassie dueled each other with small, wooden swords. Alistair bounced around the two of them, stubby tail wagging. Beside her, Gregory was working intently on a crown of grass stems. Evelyn leaned back and let the sun warm her bones. The stress of the Inquisition melted away under the springtime sunshine. She felt Gregory place the crown on her head.

"Thank you, my dear." She reached up and touched the crown, only to find it had been turned to huge peonies, with soft, pink petals that fell away with her touch. She gasped and smiled at her son, who bore the proudest expression she had ever seen. She took him into her arms, giggling, and tickled him. It was lovely magic, what her son did without training, and it made her love him all the more.

When the sun had started its downward path through the sky, the wine now gone, and the air cooling, the twins took a nap, cuddled up with each other. Evelyn and Cullen lay on either side of the children, watching the clouds pass. Alistair sat at the crest of the hill, keeping watch.

"We should head back," Cullen said. Evelyn murmured her agreement, but neither of them made any move to leave. She looked over at her husband- more lined and weathered since they married, but now the lines were laugh lines and he was worn down to a softness that made her smile. She was sure the weight of the Inquisition had turned her into a hag, but when Cullen looked at her, his eyes brightened all the same.

Reach across their children, Cullen took her hand. They cradled the twins between their bodies and closed their eyes- savoring the moment.

 **FIN**

 **Thanks for reading, guys. Might do a Dorian fic, I don't know. I'll probably finish up some of my other fics first, which you should read. Also thinking about transferring everything over ao3. I'm not sure about that either. But anyway- thanks for the support.**


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